


The Reign of the Forsworn

by TheLoneSurvivor



Series: Heroes, Legends, and Saviors [12]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Gore, Chance Meetings, Character Death, Elder Scrolls - Freeform, Excruciating Deaths, F/M, Loss of Parent(s), Love, M/M, Multiple Endings, My First Fanfic, Skyrim - Freeform, Violence, Visions, divine intervention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:06:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 53,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoneSurvivor/pseuds/TheLoneSurvivor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty years have passed since the dragon crisis and the world has recovered. With the civil war over for years in favour of the Stormcloaks, life seems to be somewhat back to the way it once was. But a new faction has now begun its way through the ranks of power; the Forsworn. They've started pillaging and raising all they could, while putting territories under their banner. But it begins far before that, and with a small farm girl. Blessed by the divines, she will learn that fate has a plan for even the most unlikeliest of people. Her name is Talia, and she is the end to the reign of the Forsworn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the Hill

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, this is the first story I've released to the public so far, so sorry if anything is incorrect like commas and periods and stuff (I'm not that good of a writer). Second of all, this story will take some time until what happens in the summary is mentioned so be prepared for that. Third of all, hope you enjoy reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The welcoming chapter into the story and explains most of the main character's hobbies, life, and thoughts.

Dusk was falling upon a small farm and it's inhabitants, out on the border of the near-frozen plains of Whiterun. To north of the farm there were the great expanses of plains where giants roam. To the south were the mountains that blocked off Skyrim from Cyrodiil. To the east lied even more plains and then a forest of pine that stood so tall and proud it could be seen even from the farm. And finally, to the west there were hills, the likes of which weren't seen anywhere else in Skyrim.

So she sat there on a hill to gaze down at the land in front of her. The view that she had upon the hill was incredible, she could almost see the city of Whiterun from where she was. Her name was Talia, she was a girl only a few winters away from moving out of the family farm. She had lived on the farm for her entire life, she hadn't gone to far away from it. The farthest place she ever went was to Markarth, which she went with her father when she was about twelve.

Being upon the hill made her think a lot, even more so then doing anything else. It was odd that it made her think so much, but then again she never really minded since she went back onto the hill every day she could. It was her place to just relax, be calm and – of course – think. One of the best things about the hill was that it had many plants and flowers that grew there. They never seemed to wither and die, nor fade away. They just stayed there, month after month, year after year.

Stars were just starting to light up the sky when Talia started to lose herself in her thoughts. She thought of where she wanted to go, which she listed to herself, _Markarth, Whiterun, Riften, Windhelm, Dawnstar and Solitude._ She always wanted to see those places, she had only heard rumours of them except for Markarth, the one city she had visited. The first and closest place to the farm.

She also thought of the dragons that used to terrorize the lands, which she heard through rumour, and what happened to them. All she was ever told was that a mysterious hero called “the Dragonborn” who slew many of them and drove them away from this place forever. Talia didn't fully believe this though, as it seemed a bit unlikely that a person was able to withstand the might of a full grown dragon, let alone dozens of them! But she guessed that was the best answer she was going to get for a while.

Eventually she heard her mother call to her that dinner was ready. Sprinting her way down the hill, with a trail now formed onto it from constant use, Talia began to think of her life once she left the farm. How would things go for her? Would she make a farm of her own? She occasionally thought of these questions, which always bothered her when they popped into her head. She never liked thinking of such things, while it was very boring on the farm, part of her really didn't want to leave. Amongst all of the rumours of the amazing cities of Skyrim, there were also of the many dangers of province.

Once she made it into the house, Talia quickly forgot about what she was thinking of and went on to enjoy the meal her mother had made. It was great, there was venison stew made within the hour with buttered bread baked the previous month, which meant it was a bit stale, and there was cheese melted onto baked potatoes just harvested today, freshly buttered Mudcrab legs gotten from a travelling merchant when Talia's mother offered for him to stay the night. And then finally an Apple, Honey, and Jazbay Berry pie, which were all sent from Talia's father in Markarth.

The food was fantastic, besides the bread. Ever since her father went off to work as a blacksmith in Markarth Talia's family has had a lot more money to buy food and other necessities. Talia's brothers were there as well, Elmgul and Lasknir. They were the kind of people who actually liked doing farm work, it seemed to fill them with happiness and joy. Which was odd to Talia as she hated doing farm work and tried to pass it onto her brothers more often then not.

Talia was the oldest of the siblings, being sixteen. Lasknir was in the middle and was thirteen. Then finally there was Elmgul, the youngest and was only eleven. Elmgul was the only person in the family who hasn't seen his father. Lasknir had seen him but only when he was six, and barely remembered the man. But Talia remembered him, quite a lot actually. The beard he grew, the clothes he used to wear, and the joy he had of being with his family. She even remembered his name, Hulgrid.

It was a sad day for everyone when he left, even _he_ wasn't happy about it but it was the only way for the family to live. They earned so little money from the farm. It only brought it about four thousand coins a year, most of which was spent on repairs and the occasional guard as the hills weren't the safest place to live. But Talia's mother, Agnifa, has been saving up enough money for him to return for a month. It's taken time but there's almost enough for the trip.

Eventually Talia finished her dinner, and conversation with the rest of the family, which was about what was going to happen tomorrow for the boys, something Talia found little interest in as she honestly didn't fully care what they did just as long as it didn't put her in a bad mood, and went out into the now dark outside world and onto the hill to see the flowers, plants and single stump which had been chopped down to build the house, and the valley below. She didn't know how long she sat there but when she got back everyone was asleep and the fire was nearly out.

Putting some more wood into the fireplace and walking into her own bed, Talia removed her normal, dirty work clothes and put on her nice and clean sleepwear. Talia then crawled into bed and started to dose off. But just before she fell asleep she remembered that she was going to Markarth tomorrow and was going to see her father. Remembering this Talia reopened her eyes in joy. But then closed them again as she needed some sleep for the coming day. Nothing else moved in the house, besides the fire, and that was the way Talia liked it. But sometimes she liked hearing a few things to lull her to sleep.

Finally going to sleep, Talia dreamed of seeing her father again, of what would happen, what he looked like and where he had ended up living. All of that she was going to find out soon. It would be the first time she would've seen him in seven years. Which to Talia seemed like far to long of a time to not see someone of your family. Never-the-less, she continued to dream for most of the night, and during times she wasn't, she was still sleeping. While seeing her father would be great, she had a strange feeling, even in her sleep, that something was going to happen after she left the farm, something that was just out of sight, or mind.


	2. Making Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia gets prepared for her journey to Markarth.

It was morning now, the sun blazed into Talia's room. It took her a while but Talia eventually woke up, groggily, and made her way out of the fox hide bed she was laying in. Moving slowly, Talia got out of her nightwear and into her moderately dirty work clothes, but then she remembered. She didn't have to as today she was going to see her father. Talia wondered why it took her so long to remember but she payed it little mind.

Talia then removed the work clothes and into her travelling clothes which consisted of a dark brown weighty but rain proof cloak, a pair of rough leather boots, a buttoned tunic which was light green, and finally a finely crafted belt. Stepping out of her room, Talia was almost immediately greeted to the smell of Oak burning on the fireplace, and of some freshly baked bread. It was a nice and home-y mixture of smells, one that she had grown up with and one she wouldn't be able to smell for a while.

“Good morning, Talia. How are you today?” Talia's mother, Agnifa, said.  
“I'm alright. A bit tired though, and a bit nervous.” Talia simply replied.  
“Why?- Oh right, your going to see father today.” Her mother said.  
“Yeah, I'm as nervous as I am excited.”  
“Well don't worry, he's been wanting to see you for a long time now.”  
“And I, him.”  
“Anyways, you will be leaving within a few hours. Got to make sure that you can put a large way between here and you.”  
“Why?” Talia spoke hesitantly  
“Because the farther you are from here the closer you are to Markarth.”  
“Oh, right.”  
“So, have you packed your things?”  
“...No, I guess I'll do that now,”

So Talia walked out of the main room and back into her own to pack up the rest of her gear. She didn't fully know what to bring but she knew that she needed a lot of food, a water pouch and a weapon of some sort. She didn't have a weapon though, she could cast a simple frost spell but only for a few seconds. She wasn't the best with magic as it took a lot of focus which was something Talia didn't have at the moment. It stressed her mind a bit too much and gave her a mild headache after a few seconds use.

Talia continued looking for a weapon of almost any sort but couldn't find any except a rusty old dagger she had found when she went out a little beyond her hill, exploring. It was small, about 9 inches and was incredibly dull, so dull you could stab a hay bale and it wouldn't fully pierce it. Slowly she put the dagger back down, but then picked it up once more because her father was blacksmith. She didn't have a sheath for it though, she didn't find one with the dagger or anywhere near it.

Gathering what things she thought was necessary, including a small tent and axe, although she left her room to get the tent and axe. When she did emerge from her room she was greeted to the smell of the oak again and the smell of a hot stew. It was something Talia's mother, Agnifa, made quite often but this time it smelled different, like it was made with rabbit instead of the usual venison. It smelled great, although it didn't help that she was very hungry at the moment as she hadn't eaten since last night.

“So, what's taken you so long eh?” Agnifa spoke while she was stirring the stew that was hanging in a pot a little above the fire.  
“I didn't know what to bring.” Talia finally said after a bit since the smell of the stew brought back many, many memories from her life.  
“Well since you've been in there for long enough I suppose you have everything you need.”  
“I hope so, it'd be horrible if I didn't have the right stuff.”  
“Indeed, while we could stand here all day and chat just like almost every other day, you need to get on the road.” Agnifa pointed out.  
“Yeah, I guess I should. First though can I have a hot meal before I leave?”  
“Well of course, that's why I made the stew so early.”  
“Good, then let us eat then I shall be on my way. Uhh, actually can you hang on a minute? I need to get a drink from the well.”  
Talia's mother simply nodded her head.

Walking out into the open world, Talia walked over, through the fog, towards the well. It was a very foggy day in fact, couldn't see more then 30 feet away. It didn't bother Talia though, she always somewhat liked the fog, it seemed so ominous and mysterious. The clouds overhead completely blocked out the sun and looked like it was going to rain soon.  
“Damnit, the last thing I need is rain today...” Muttered Talia.  
There was dew on the grass and plants as well, no doubt from all the fog that was around.

Getting the water she wanted and having a drink from it, Talia began walking back towards the house. She could only see the outline of the house since it was almost completely shrouded in mist. It wasn't too cold out though, or maybe it was. It was hard to tell since she was wearing very warm clothing. But she made her way for the last time in a while to the hill that she had spent so long on. Looking upon it once more and the lands it uncovered, she slowly walked off back to the house to have a warm meal before she left.

A small time had passed, and Talia had done nothing but mill about, put some more wood on the fire, and had a nice chat while she ate the stew. She also had a few small conversations her brothers. But it was now time for her departure onto the trail that lead into Markarth. She packed her things and went on her way, saying goodbye to her brothers and mother. She walked out just outside of the door and stood there, waiting for her family to follow.

“Here, take this. Just in case.” Talia's mother said as she handed the girl a small sword. It was made of steel and had an engraved message on it. _There has never been a good blade made of bad steel_.  
It was heavier then Talia expected and almost dropped it when she got her hands on it. Inspecting the blade she saw that it had been barely used and only had a small patch that was dull on it, right next to the handle.

“Thanks” Talia replied, her mother simply nodded.  
“Be back before the 29th ok? I will make your favourite meal, roasted venison stew with chopped potatoes, cabbage, carrots, and a few pedals of primrose mixed in.”  
“Mmm, you bet I will with the promise of that...” Talia trailed off, remembering what the meal tasted like, and when she last had it.  
“Good, well be safe my dear.”  
“I will be” Talia said as she started to walk away from the door and into the wilderness.  
“Always stay on the road!” Her mother yelled out a few moments later.  
“I will!” came the now slightly distant reply.


	3. All Roads Lead to Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Talia makes her way to Markarth, and meets a friend along the way.

With her mind full of excitement and body free of aches and pains, Talia was ready for her journey off to Markarth. It seemed odd to her – leaving the farm – but she continued on her path with her eyes gazing all about, looking at what the Reach had to offer in terms of nature. It certainly was hilly, that much was for sure. Hills going all over and rocks and boulders showing themselves anywhere where they could. It was still very misty though and Talia couldn't see much, but from what she could see, she was beginning to like the place.

She had never been outside of the farm except one time during her previous journey to the Dwemer city. There wasn't much to be heard though, like she thought. There was the sounds of water moving down streams, the distant sounds of animals on the hunt and a few she couldn't fully recognize. It didn't bother her though and she continued to look around, getting in as much of the terrain as possible.

The heavy mist was beginning to dissipate though, which was a nice change to Talia, she didn't want to spend her travel not being able to see the land in all it's glory. She walked along the stoned pathway which looked old and unfixed in a while. Stones were missing and replaced by muddy holes and flattened and cracked ones. None of it was really noticed by Talia though, she just walked and kept her eyes up high to see the beautiful land all around her.

Talia was enjoying herself quite a bit, looking at all the interesting rock formations and all the trees trying to gather as much sun as possible, making them quite distorted and gnarly, when she heard something. A small growl, something almost faint enough to not be heard. She proceeded to brandish her weapon and wield it in front of her with caution. Then suddenly a wolf crawled it's way out of the rocks. Gazing down on her with hungry, red eyes.

The wolf was no bigger than Talia herself and wore a greyish, brown coat. It's teeth were quite long and very, very yellow. It moved very silently but swiftly too. Talia took the signs it was showing to prepare for a fight; something she had never done before. She had wielded a blade before but never against another living creature. Then she got her weapon into a blocking position and then braced herself for the incoming attack. With a sudden leap the wolf jumped towards her, letting out a sudden yelp and going limp. Talia reopened her eyes which she had shut in fear, only to see that the wolf had jumped straight into the sword which had pierced it's head and effectively killed it.

Talia then let out a huge sigh and pulled the sword out of the dead corpse now lying on the ground, letting it's blood drip everywhere along the road. “Well, one less of them for anyone to deal with...” Talia said to herself, looking at the wolf and then back to the rest of the lands. She quickly cleaned up the blade using one of the spare rags she had brought for any sort of emergency, and then quickly began back on her way. “Well, guess that's a wake up call. I better keep moving.” Talia mumbled so quietly that anyone listening couldn't hear.

Quickening her pace and trying to avoid anything else involved with fighting, Talia continued to walk down the muddy pathway towards her destination. The clouds hadn't gone away during her time walking though, and the clouds were becoming dark and showing signs that it was going to rain. Something Talia didn't want to happen. But she continued on her path, and returned to looking about as much as she could.

The clouds began to drizzle sometime later after Talia's run-in with the wolf. But she just continued on her path, walking on and on and ever closer to the city of stone. But the weather wasn't about to change and was beginning to seep through her cloak and began to touch her skin, chilling her. “Brrr, I hope I make it there soon...” She thought to herself. The rain wasn't intensifying then but it had a chance to do so still.

She ended up meeting a traveller on his way to Markarth as well she suspected. He wore a linen cloak, somewhat similar to hers and a green long-sleeved shirt. His boots were old, worn and muddy and around the soles of them were completely brown while the upper parts of his shoe was black. He had what looked to be a Dwarven sword on him, but Talia wasn't sure; she guessed as much though since the blade was looked to be made of gold.

His face was middle-aged and rugged, like he had been in the wilderness for most of his life. Mud also slightly covered his face and in his beard which blocked quite a bit of his face from being seen. He wore fur gloves which fit him nicely and seemed to be completely warm. He didn't look to be one of the strongest people but he looked like he had been in battle many times. A few scares were on his face too, and were in the shapes of a blade slash and an animal claw.

Upon seeing the girl he immediately unsheathed his blade and turned towards her. Copying his motions, Talia did the same but a bit slower and somewhat clumsier. “Are you friendly?” Talia asked slowly.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“If _you_ are friendly.” The man said plainly.

“Well I'm just on my way to Markarth, going to see an old friend of mine and trying to get into as little trouble as possible.”

“Ahh, well I guess we don't need our weapons out then as I am heading the same way.” Both began to sheath their weapons and Talia put her's away slower then the man did with his.

“Mind if I accompany you?” Said Talia, somewhat wishfully.

“I guess there's no harm in that. As long as you aren't a thief of some sort.” The man said questioningly.

“I can assure you that I am not a thief, nor do I have any intentions to do so” Said Talia, innocently.

“Alright, I doubt we will make it there by sundown but I've been on this road a few times and know of a spot where we can camp out.”

“Hey, if we are sheltered then I am happy.”

“Then you will be happy” Said the man somewhat dryly.

They walked the path for a while, stopping every so often if a wolf decided to make them a meal or when a highwayman stopped them demanding gold for passage. But Talia, while she didn't fully trust the man, stuck by him rather closely. He was a very good fighter from what she had seen but did get hit a few times to which she used some of her healing magic on him. It drained a lot of willpower from her which oddly caused her vision to turn darker and make colours begin to fade but her magicka reserves quick enough to not bother her _too_ much.

“So, how long have you been in Skyrim?” Said Talia, trying to make small talk.

“Long enough to know my way on almost each and every road. You?” Said the man dryly.

“All my life, just south east of here on a small farm.” Talia responded quickly since she expected the man to ask.

“A farmer eh? Where did a farmer learn to use magic?” The man asked, a bit shocked from what Talia just told him.

“I learned all of it from my mother who served in the civil war here in Skyrim, back when the dragons started appearing, as a healer” Talia spoke.

“For which side?”

“Does it matter?” Talia responded somewhat bitterly.

“Whoa, I meant no offence and I don't care if she was an Imperial Healer or a Stormcloak one.”

“She was a Stormcloak.” Talia admitted to the man.

“Ahh, is she a Nord?”

“Yeah.”

“So your a Nord too?”

“No, My father and Mother are Bretons.”

“Ahh yes, the mage race.” Spoke the man like he was remembering a memory of some kind.

“So, anyways... What's your name?”

“I can ask the same thing.”

“I'm Talia” The girl responded.

“Olavmar. Nice to meet you Talia.” The name seemed to roll off his tongue as he said it.

“So how long until we make it to Markarth?” Talia asked.

“Well, if we walk a bit faster I'd say around nightfall.”

“Then I guess we should go a bit faster then.” Said Talia, determinedly.

“What's the rush all of a sudden?” Olavmar asked questioningly.

“I'm going to see my father, and trade a few things I have on me.”

“Oh, so your father doesn't live with you?”

“Well, not anymore. He used to until we couldn't make enough coin from selling crops.”

“Right, right.”

They sped up their pace after that with the clunking sounds of their boots against the stones quickening during then. The light drizzle it was before was now gone but the clouds still remained, blocking out what little sun there would've been. They still trudged on though, they might've been moving at a faster pace but not by much. The day was darkening and that was for sure, but not by much yet. The world was still very visible and didn't hinder them at all.

They finally crossed a small bridge and was greeted to a Markarth guard making his rounds around the city. “Staying safe I hope?” The guard then asked.

“Yes, we are doing fine.” Replied Olavmar, not letting Talia have a say in it even though she could say otherwise.

“Glad to hear it.” Said the guard, who seemed like he was saying it as though he didn't care and it was just his duty to do so.

Talia then spoke up “Who was that?”

“A guard of Markarth, I can tell by the armour.” Olavmar said somewhat quietly.

“So that means we are here?”

“No, we have about another 10 to 15 minutes of walking ahead of us.”

“Damn, well at least we're close...” She trailed off.

“Indeed we are.” Olavmar said flatly.

As Olavmar predicted, it only took the travellers about 10 minutes to make it to the city. It was still impressive to Talia, even though she had seen it once before. Living on a dull farm makes it seem like it's more impressive than anything else. But they walked inside and were greeted to almost no one on the streets and only a few guards on patrol. Olavmar then spoke up.

“Well, I guess it is now that we part ways, Talia.”

“I guess so Olav.” Talia responded somewhat slowly.

“Well, it was nice to spend some time with you, for what little time it was. I always enjoy company.”

“Yeah, it's nice to see a new face every now and then too.”

Olav then placed his hand on Talia's shoulder,“Well listen, if you need a place to stay if you decide to travel often and near Whiterun, just let me know. I have a house there and would be more than happy to provide housing for you.” he proceeded to say, while a warm smile lit his face.

“Thanks, but I don't think I will travel much during my life...” Talia responded with almost a sad tone to it.

“Well in any case if you need me just ask around the town for 'Olavmar', they will know who you are speaking of.”

“Alright, thanks. See you in the future!” Talia said as Olav began to walk towards the rocky cliff.

“You can count on it!” Came the reply.

With her new travel buddy gone, Talia then walked over to the doors leading to an inn. She looked at the sign and then stepped inside, just as rain began to fall once more. It was very warm and comfortable in the inn. A large fireplace was at the back of the spacious room, while a few pathways lead into bedrooms, Talia assumed. She walked up to the counter and was greeted to a man with long hair and in simple white clothing. He stood there waiting for what Talia had to say, while laughs, conversations and various other things could be heard throughout the inn.

“Hello and welcome to the Silver-Blood Inn, need anything to eat and drink or just a place to stay?” The man said with a warm and greeting voice.

“How much coin is it for a night?” Talia then asked.

“10 Septims, something the likes of you should be able to pay.”

“And how much for food and drink?”

“Depends; are you thirsty, hungry, both?”

Talia browsed what selection they had, “I'll take some bread and I guess a little mead.”

“Will that include a room?”

“Yes.” Talia said plainly.

“Alright, that will be sixteen Septims.”

Talia pulled out her small coin purse her mother had given to her and rummaged through it to find the number of coins she needed. Pulling out the coins she required, she put them on the desk in front of her and left the man to count it all out. After a small time, the man finished with counting out the coins and gave the rest back to Talia. “Here you are, and enjoy your stay.”

“Thanks, I'll try.” She said as she took the food and walked into her room.

It was only when she began to eat her food in her room that she realized how hunger she was. She was so hungry in fact that she wolfed down the bread and drank the mead faster than she ever had before. She wasn't used to eating so little in a day since her mother always had a stew of some sort ready for her to eat, but this time there was no such thing.

When she sat down she then realized that her legs were so tired that no matter what she did, she couldn't stand back up. The bed wasn't that comfy either, it was all made of stone and only cushioned by a small linen sheet which was old and torn. After she was done her meal Talia eased herself into the bed and anticipated the feeling of being sore when she awoke the next morning. Once she got into her bed she shifted onto her side and tried to go to sleep but no matter what could feel that something bad was happening that she had avoided, but eventually went into a dreamful but uneasy sleep.


	4. Men of the Hills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Forsworn begin to act up now and do something that Talia will be horrified to discover.

Fire and death filled the night sky, smoke choking all who was near. Wild men attacked deep into the night, burning down a small, lonesome farm. It was quite isolated but was within a day's travel of Markarth. Only a trail led down to the former farm, muddy and only had a few stones placed in it. Not many residents were at the farm, there was a woman and two lads barely old enough to grow even a small bit of stubble on their chins. It didn't matter to the men though, they slaughtered all of them, leaving them within the house they were killed in.

They pillaged all they could from the farm, before they burned it down. It wasn't anything to brag about though, just a lot of food and a few weapons; still sharp and new. They left nothing to come back to, if anyone _would_ come back. The men weren't cheering at all; they usually do. Not much fighting was done that night, nor blood spilled, something the men didn't like and never wanted to get used to. There had been no casualties that night, but then again they didn't have to fight much at all. The woman was killed almost as soon as the blood-crazed men entered through the door. The boys woke up shortly after but were also slain, their bodies still and lifeless.

On the hill above stood a man. He had a huge steel battleaxe on his back, and wore armour made of pelts and decorated with blood and sharp, pointed teeth. He stood there, one foot on a stump surrounded by many plants and another deep into the mud right next to it. His eyes reflected the fire that he was staring at, and a wicked smile was on his face. His name was Skoulf Svhannion. He had been a soldier for a time but moved onto other things. He stood there for quite a while, until the flames died out. He then ordered the men to gather what they had looted and brought and made the trip back home.

The men shuffled one by one up the steps which lead into the camp. It was lit by fires and was surrounded by rocks and small boulders the reach provided. Not much was happening that night, the tents and people around them were silent, just watching the men slowly return from their disappointing raid. Finally Skoulf himself showed his face as he too, walked slowly back towards the steps leading into their hidden camp.

Eventually once he got onto the steps leading into his own tent, a man who hadn't gone on the raid confronted him, “So, what happened?” was all the man said, waiting for a response.

“The place we had attacked had far less supplies in it than we all thought.” Skoulf said grimly.

“But what of the farmers themselves?” The man said almost worried.

“Dead; tossed into the fire as well as whatever we couldn't carry and didn't need.”

The man's eyes went wide with surprise, then his emotions quickly switched to one of annoyance, “What?! I thought you said you would let them live!” the man shouted right to Skoulf's face.

“They weren't of use to us, it was only a few lads and a woman more content on making stews than anything else.” Came the reply from Skoulf.

“Wait, how many people were there?” The man asked hesitantly.

“Three. Two lads and again, one woman.”

“Hmm, I thought there were more people that lived there...” The man trailed off, his voice full of confusion.

“Well it does not matter, they have nothing to return to.” Skoulf said as coldly as Skyrim itself.

“Yeah, I guess your right; can't imagine what they will go through when they return though.”

“ _If_ they return _”_ Skoulf corrected, “We don't even know if there even _are_ more people who lived there!” he said with a small chuckle.

“Ah, well you should get some rest, I heard that a caravan of weapons for the Stormcloaks is travelling by, to restock Falkreath I'm guessing.”

“Good, we need more weapons, these poorly made steel ones aren't going to get us anywhere once we start to draw more attention to us.” Skoulf announced with a grimacing smile on his face.

“ _Once_?” The man asked questioningly.

“Yes, that was just the beginning! Soon we will spread to spots all over Skyrim!”

“But when we decided to form we were only going to remain an independent province, it's what the leader said when he rallied us all together...” The man trailed off worryingly.

“I don't give a damn about what the leader said! Since I am in command now, and since our 'leader' is now gone or dead, we will attack all of Skyrim! And make everyone fear our might!”

“Those are big ambitions my friend, I highly suggest that will wait so we ca-” was all the man managed to say.

“'Can' what?! I already told you we would wait, you don't need to waste your words on me when _I_ was the one who said them. Now get out of my face!” Skoulf ordered the man out of the tent and just like that, all fell silent in the camp. Everyone was either on watch or going to sleep, trying to make as little noise as possible. Skoulf hated loud noises, especially when he was trying to sleep. Once he got so enraged by one of the men snoring in the night, he walked over to the tent and snapped the man's neck. Everyone else got the message the next morning.

Skoulf pondered over what to do after the man had left. He didn't feel very tired but there wasn't much else he could do for now. Everyone was out doing something but not him, just standing over a small map of Skyrim looking at it, lost in thought. Small fires cracked in the night, illuminating some of the tents around. The air was chilly this night, as it was every night. Skyrim would and always will be the frozen land that people have somehow managed to survive in. The air was nipping at Skoulf but was combated back by the many torches that provided light and a small amount of heat in the huge tent. He eventually decided that it was too late and went into his bedroll and tried to go to sleep.

The morning was upon him when he awoke, the air was fresh and chilled. He looked around a little disorientated as to where he was. But within moments he regathered where he was and got up, slightly stiff from not moving during his sleep. The sun beamed into the space around him and illuminated almost everything. He shuffled out of the tent to see what was happening around the camp. Everything was all in order, there was the blacksmith doing what he normally did, the few hunters that were here while the others were out, the alchemists making potions and the occasional poison, and the many, many guards that patrolled the place.

He walked out onto the hardened dirt 'floor' so the sun could hit him better. It was still moderately cold out and he needed to warm up. Many people passed by, each glancing only for a moment then returning their gaze in front of them. Some grumbled a small and quiet “Hello” before moving on, continuing on their path to whatever they set out to do. It seemed to Skoulf that the attack on the farm seemed to affect people more than he thought it would. They all seemed distant, or like they were avoiding him. He needed to establish another raid soon if that's what was going on; get the men back into high spirits!

He sent out scouts to monitor the roads and try and find any carriages or patrols or anything that would be worth attacking. The scouts left without a word this time, not like any time before though. It bothered him that these men were so wild and blood crazed most times but can be completely taken out of it from a small razing of a farm. Perhaps it was the fact that there wasn't enough loot, or perhaps it was that they only killed a few boys and a woman. Not honourable at all. But then Skoulf wondered if they even cared about honour; apparently so.

He tasked a few men to hunting, get more food since they were running low on meat and they too left without a single word and only a nod. He needed to find a raid soon, that much was for sure. He then remembered what that man had said the previous day, _“_ _I heard that a caravan of weapons for the Stormcloaks is travelling by, to restock Falkreath I'm guessing._ _”._ Which day was that? He presumed today and went off to find the man who had said such a thing to confirm if it was correct. He found the man eventually, sharpening one of his blades on a grindstone.

“So, when will that caravan roll by?” Skoulf asked as he approached.

“Hmm? Oh, right.” The man said, surprised that he somewhat snuck up on him, “Some time later today, why do you ask?” The man then questioned.

“Have you seen the men today?” Skoulf responded, “They're all silent and don't seem to be in the usual high spirits they're normally in.”

“Yeah, no one liked the fact that there was only a woman and children on the farm, they were expecting guards or something to fight during that time.” Said the man quietly, still sharpening his sword on the grindstone.

“But they did kill that night!” Skoulf protested.

“Only women and children, people who don't deserve to be killed, people who did nothing to stop us.” The man countered.

Skoulf looked at the man, realizing that each word he spoke was true. They did only kill a woman and children, people who didn't lift a blade in defence from them, and people who didn't deserve the wrath of the Forsworn.

Skoulf let out a sigh, “I guess you're right, they had no reason to die.” The man simply nodded.

“So what does the weapon caravan have anything to do with the men?” The man questioned Skoulf.

“I'm hoping that if we attack the caravan the men's moods and spirits will return to what they once were.” Came the reply.

“Well I think it would. Is that why you sent out so many scouts today?”

Skoulf nodded.

“Ahh, well that should work, going on another raid. Make them forget about the previous!” The man then said.

“It's my plan and I intend to do it.”

“The caravan is heading off to Rorikstead today so just stay near that road,” The man pointed his finger to one of the roads near Markarth on a map lying on a table just nearby, “and you should eventually run across it.”

“Thanks” Skoulf said, as he began to walk off to gather some men to go on that raid.

“Anytime!” Came the reply.

Skoulf gathered some of the men to where he was, they all had their signature armour and some weapons. A few had bows, some had axes and another few had swords. They all had small smiles on their faces though, which pleased him a lot. They all were out of the camp soon enough and all waiting and searching for the carriage to come by. They spotted a few traders, with just some regular clothing and some dull looking weapons but were accompanied by a Orc dressed head to toe in Orcish armour and wielded an Orc battleaxe. Not a person they'd want to fight right now, the last thing the Forsworn men needed was the death of a comrade and friend that day.

After a few hours of searching one of the men did find the caravan. It was a single but well guarded carriage. Stormcloak soldiers on all sides of it wielding bows, shields, and axes and swords. It seemed easy enough, he ordered a few of the Forsworn men to shoot a few with their bows and then they would all charge in and take anything they could. The men got their bows ready and aimed them, a few short seconds, and a lot of anticipation, later, the arrows were released and flew straight into their targets. One pierced a Stormcloak's heart and another went into one's head.

After the initial shock of what just happened the rest of the Stormcloak soldiers raised their shields, blocking any arrow from hitting them. Skoulf ordered the men all to charge in and kill them as swiftly and quickly as possible. They ran in and out from their hiding spots and quickly killed a few of the men and women defending the cart. Skoulf managed to hack off a few limbs of the enemy and watch their blood seep out, forming crimson puddles around them. Blood was flying everywhere, it coated most of the remaining soldiers, both Forsworn and Stormcloak. Screams of mercy, pain and rage filled the air for those few minutes, almost deafening those who were near.

The battle was eventually over. All the Stormcloaks were either dead or had run off to go and recover and probably never enter those hills again. Not any of the Forsworn had died though, which was a huge relief to Skoulf. They used many healing potions but it was worth it. They walked around the massive groups of corpses lying on the ground with limbs strewn everywhere and guarded the place from anyone else trying to take what they fought for. Skoulf walked over to the back of the cart and opened a large chest in the back of it. It was filled with various weapons, most were hatchets and swords, a few axes, a couple maces, and some daggers. Asides from that there was some steel arrows in it, and some steel ingots.

Some of the men then picked up the chest, which was very heavy, and hauled it all back to the camp. They were greeted by a bunch of welcoming Forsworn members who were interested in seeing the contents of the chest before them. The men then took the chest and tipped it over, letting it's contents spill onto the ground for all to see. Most people were shocked from all the weapons that were in there and gathered them up, placing them on racks and sharpening them for future use.

Skoulf looked around with a large grin on his face, he dismissed the men under his command who returned to doing whatever they were doing previous to the search. Skoulf then walked over to his tent and changed his clothing, which were completely stained in blood and guts, and put on another set of the fur armour. He then fell onto his bed and closed his eyes, hoping that when he reopened them that the high spirits that the men once had, would be regained.


	5. Reunited at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia finally meets her father after years of absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is special as it, (oddly enough) gave unintentional spoilers for a new story that will be worked on soon! See if you can find it!

She awoke more sore as every before. She couldn’t move and for the time, didn’t want to. Pain rattled her entire body, almost paralysing her. So Talia did the one thing she could, lie in bed for a time. While she was lying there, she had time to recite how her conversation with her father would go. She imagined that her father would be at the forge hammering away at a new blade that he was creating. She imagined seeing his hair glow in the sunlight, with a warm smile on his face as she approached and hug her tightly after years of absence.

She played a scenario like that time and time again, hours passed and the soreness that crippled her was almost gone. She arose eventually when every joint she had didn’t ache with pain. She walked out of the room cursing at the bed for being made of stone. She was greeted to the cheerful owner of the inn still standing behind the counter as he was the day previous. The fire roared in the background and chatter was sparse but present. Talia overheard something about a huge camp somewhere in the hills belonging to some group of people called the Forsworn. Forsworn? Who were they? And are they dangerous? She didn’t know and didn’t fully want to find out.

The room smelled of the mixture of mead, meat and some other odors that she couldn’t identify. The place was still somewhat cold though, the fire warmed up the air but not the stone encasing the room. It was moderately warm but still cold to the touch. She wasn’t cold though, despite the cold of the stone. She got something to eat which took a few of her tiny amount of coins. After eating her fair share she left off through the door and into the city.

She expected that it would be sun and that the city would be glowing with all the reflections the dwemer metal would create, but no such thing came. It was pouring rain and looked very miserable, the small stream that ran through the city was starting to overflow and run onto the streets. Not many people were outside, not many people wanted to get wet. Only a few people were actually outside, and most were guards. The stalls outside were closed and what they had on them were gone, not wanting their product to be damaged by the rain. Talia walked along the roads and walked up one of the guards.

“What miserable weather eh?” The guard said as she got close.

“Indeed it is, never seen weather like this before.” She replied.

“Ah, so you are new to the reach am I right?” The guard said questioningly.

“Well,” Talia began to say, “I live on a small farm on the border of the Reach. Only a few yards away is Whiterun hold.”

“Right, right, so not far off. Well, in other news, I would be very careful nowadays. The Forsworn are trying to make a comeback and will once more try to reclaim the reach for themselves.” The guard said worryingly.

“Who are the Forsworn anyways?” Talia asked

“They’re madmen who live in the hills. They will kill anyone that stands in their way of turning this place into an independent state.” The guard answered.

“Oh, I overheard a few conversations about them when I was inside the inn about them, was wondering who they were.”

“Right, well still, stay safe.”

“Thanks. Anyways, do you know where the blacksmith’s place is?”

“While there are no shops of the sort, there is a small hut-ish building over near the mine. Just walk over in that direction,” He pointed over to a small slope which lead into a pool of water near a small entrance which was completely dark, Talia assumed it was the mine. “and then make a right and you will see the fires of the pit. There is the place you seek.” The guard answered.

“Thank you very much.” Talia said.

“Anytime.”

She walked down the path that the guard had described and felt the rain start to seep through her clothes and touch her skin. It chilled her, it didn’t help that that it was windy, too. It felt like the wind was going right through her skin and deep into her bones, freezing them. She wondered how the Nords were able to live here, it confused her. But they had been here for far longer and adapted the ability to resist this cold more than others. She had no such ability, she was better at magic than all other races; being a Breton gives you that power. But she continued on and eventually, after a few minutes, found the spot where the man had described. She then saw a man who was quite dark and gloomy, thanks to the rain.

She approached the man who was hammering away on what looked to be a sword. She was right about that part at least. The man had sweat beading down his face, and his eyes looked tired, with bags under his eyes. He looked tired but from the amount of force he was dealing to the sword, it didn’t look much like it. She walked slowly towards the man, upon seeing her, the man tossed the sword into the fire to let it warm up again and walked over to her.

“Hello there, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Uhh, s-so you’re the b-blacksmith here?” She said slowly and stuttered a few times.

“Indeed I am, but please, try not to browse at what I have for sale for too long since I am expecting someone soon, I think.”

“Oh? Alright, so what’s your name?”

“Hulgrid” The man said very straight forward.

“Papa…?” Talia said slowly.

“…Talia?” He said questioningly, “Is that you?” All she did was nod.

“Talia!” He said as he embraced her in his arms.

“Papa!” She said in return.

After several minutes they finally let go of one another and continued on with their conversation. “I am so glad to see you here!”

“You too,” Talia replied.

“Come on, let’s go to my house.” A warm smile almost ear to ear was on his face.

“What of the shop?”

“Ahh, don’t worry. No one’s out here anyways. I was just working on a spare sword to sell later.” He said as he wrapped his arm around the shoulder of Talia and began to lead her off to his house.

“So how’s the farm?” Hulgrid asked after only a few moments after they started walking.

“Good from what I know,” Talia asked with a twinge of nervousness in her voice.

Hulgrid detected it and asked “What? Is something wrong?”

“Like I said, not that I know. But I did have a bad feeling about it before I went to sleep last night…” She trailed off as she remembered what she was thinking about during that time but for the life of her could not fully remember.

“Well, Let’s hope it was nothing; it would be horrible if something happened to them.” Hulgrid said with a twinge of nervousness in his voice too.

“Yes it would be.” Talia said with the nervousness in her voice slightly calming down.

They walked in silence for a small time after that walking toward Hulgrid’s house. She didn’t know what to expect, was it going to be lavish and quite luxurious? Or was it going to have only the essentials? She was soon to find out though; she wondered what kind of life her father had made for himself in this city. He certainly made quite a bit of gold though, enough for him to buy his own house. She wondered why she hadn’t been over more, she had never seen him since he left and it was only a day’s travel away from the farm. Her mind continued to wander like this for some time and Hulgrid just was silently humming a tune to himself that she couldn’t quite remember the name of.

“What song are you humming?” Talia eventually asked.

“Hmm?” He said as he snapped back into reality, “Oh, it’s the tune to an ode the Stormcloaks sung back when the civil war was still in Skyrim. It’s called ‘The Age of Oppression’.”

“When was the civil war?” Talia asked, as she didn’t know much about the war.

“About sixteen years ago, back when dragons roamed the skies oddly enough.”

“What’s so odd about it?”

“Well, the war was almost over when the Imperials captured the leader of the rebels, Ulfric Stormcloak, and nearly killed him. They were so close to doing so, but then a dragon attacked and allowed him to escape.” He said slowly, like he was reliving that moment.

“Wait, dragons?” Talia said, more confused as ever.

“Yes, dragons. They roamed the whole of Skyrim once.” He said, he shuddered slightly like it was one of the worst memories he had, which it probably was, “Well, you haven't changed much.” He then said.

“What do you mean?” Talia asked, her mind still imagining what dragons looked like.

Hulgrid let out a small chuckle, “You always are full of questions, just like when you were a little girl.”.

Talia pondered over this statement for a few seconds, “Words seem to hide as much as they reveal.” She then said.

“Indeed,” was the only word Hulgrid responded with, “Ahh here we are,” He pointed to a door close to the Inn. It was of Dwemer metal, just like everything else was in this city it seemed.

“Does it have a name, papa?” Talia asked after looking at the very embroidered door.

Hulgrid let out another small chuckle, “Indeed it does, Komyur, a name I gave it once I bought it from the Jarl.”

“Komyur,” Talia said, letting it roll off her tongue, “I like it.”

“I'm glad, wouldn't be a good name if you didn't!” He said with a smile partially made by pride, another just from being with his daughter, “Well, let's get out of the rain and into my home eh?”

A smirk appeared on Talia's face, “Let's,”

They walked into the house and Talia was immediately hit with the warmth of the fireplace. It produced a lot more heat than she was expecting, probably because of the stone that encased the house and the fact that it had been running for a time that she didn't know. The house was somewhere in between being bare and lavish. There were many shelves that held many different decorations, all seemed to be placed there to make the place feel more like a home. The house wasn't very big, then again when your a single man, you don't need a lot of room, and contained what seemed to be only four more rooms. A bedroom, Kitchen, Bathroom and Makeshift armoury, Talia presumed. The house had a few sconces on the wall, none lit since the fire at the back of the room seemed to illuminate the whole house.

“So, what do you think of it, my little Masser?” He said, just remembering the name he gave to her daughter years back before he moved away.

“Well, it certainly is warm, that much is for sure.” Talia spoke, still gazing all around the room.

Hulgrid chuckled once more, “Indeed it is, the fire's been going for a little over five hours now.” He said, walking over to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace and then taking a seat.

“Come, sit with me,” Hulgrid spoke once he had settled himself in one of the chairs.

Talia approached taking off her cloak, gloves, and boots and rested them by the fire. The chair slightly creaked, showing it had been used for years. Hulgrid was pouring himself a drink, ale from how it looked, while Talia had been taking off her some of her over-wear.

Hulgrid sipped his drink, “Want some?” he then offered.

Talia shrugged, “I don't see why not, I will be staying here for a few days anyways.” she said she tried to make herself more comfortable in the hard wooden chair she was sitting in.

“Well that raises the question: How long will you be staying here for?” He asked, while pouring a second drink.

“I will be leaving early in the morning of the 29th.” She said flatly, and slightly nodded at Hulgrid when he passed her, her drink.

“And it's the 25th, so you have another four days here.”

“Yes, I wanted it to be a week but mum needs me to keep the boys in check.” Talia said with a small chuckle.

“Right, right. How are the lads doing anyways? I haven't seen them in almost the slightest, one not at all.” Hulgrid said, trying to remember the face of Lasknir.

“They're doing just fine, born farmers is what they are. They like farming more than anything else it seems.”

“Well living on a farm all your life seems to do that to you,” he said, taking another sip of his drink, “That life never seemed to suit me though.

“Anyways, how is mum?” He spoke with concern in his voice.

“She is doing very well, she isn't sick, fatigued, or any ailments of any kind.” She said, with a small smile on her face.

“Good, good. I wish I could see her again, to feel her once more...” He trailed off into distant memories, causing a broad smile to appear on the man's face, the likes of which, Talia could only think of a few.

They sat in silence for a small time after, each taking sips of their drinks and watching the fire dance in it's pit. Each taking brief moments to glance at one another, as if trying to decipher what the other was thinking. Then one question creeped it's way from Talia's mind to her mouth and she broke the silence between the two.

“Why do you call me 'My little Masser', papa?”

Hulgrid jolted slightly like he was completely lost in thought, “Hmm? Oh yes,” he said, taking another sip of his drink, “I was originally going to call you 'My little Secunda' at first but I decided not to.”

“Why?”

“Because it would be incorrect, Secunda's name means 'the second' and since you were mum and I's first child it wouldn't make much sense to give you that nickname.”

“What does the name 'Masser' mean, then?”

“It means 'path' or 'path follower', my dear.”

“Ahh,” Talia said in complete understanding of why he gave her that nickname, “One final question, I hope: Which kind of path are you speaking of?”

“The path of life,” Hulgrid said, after he drank up the last swig from his glass, “Everyone walks it. Each one is separate but sometimes they converge. When they do, some walk the rest of the way hand-in-hand and others do all they can to push the other off and into the darkness of the unknown.” His face darkened after the last statement, but his eyes still had the warmth that they had when Talia had just met him earlier today.

They sat in silence for another long time after that, all the while Talia pondered over the different meanings of the statement her father had just spoken. _By 'going on the path hand-in-hand' as he put it, did he mean as friends, or as lovers? And by 'doing all they can to push the other off into the darkness of the unknown' what exactly did he mean by that? Was he speaking of death, sorrow, or was it something that she didn't know of?_ These thoughts came and went may times in her head, all the while Hulgrid began to hum 'The Age of Oppression' once again. Time passed by far faster than she realized and before she knew it, it was one in the morning.

“Good night, Talia. You may sleep on the second bed I have in the spare room over there,” Hulgrid pointed his finger to over one of the rooms over near the door.

“If it's made of stone I swear...” She trailed off, not even needing to finish her sentence.

“Don't worry, it's far more comfy than that.” He chuckled, walking off to his own bed to get some rest for the day ahead.

“Good night, papa.” Talia said very quietly, so much so that Hulgrid didn't even hear her.

Then she too, walked over to her bed that was in another room. It wasn't a stone bed to Talia's relief, but was made of Saber Cat pelts, and straw she assumed. She eased herself onto a bed once more and continued to decipher what her father meant by the things he stated. It wasn't long before she was asleep, Hulgrid too but was snoring quite loudly.

Talia didn't dream very much, it was more of a vision. One given to her by one of the divines themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also just realized that I end off most of my chapters with the protagonist or antagonist falling asleep. Perhaps I don't know how to end chapters any other way, who knows?


	6. Visions of What's to Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia has a vision given from one of the divines, and then makes another friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this chapter not being released for so long but it took far longer to think of ideas than I thought it would.  
> I write all my chapters one at a time so once this a new chapter is uploaded, that's all I've got down so far.  
> This chapter was longer than I expected, too but I hope you enjoy it just as much, if not more, than my other chapters.

_It was summer, the sun shone high in the sky and a soft breeze filled the air. The fragrance of flowers drifted on the wind. No clouds revealed themselves in the skies above, making the day seem even more bright. A stream could be heard nearby, continuously creating the noises of rushing water. Flowers were all around the place where she stood, larger than she had ever seen any before. The rolling hills seemed to stretch out forever on the horizon. Then she heard a voice._

“ _Hello Talia.” Said a strange and ominous voice._

“ _Who are you?” Talia called out, looking all around her to see if she could find where the voice was coming from._

_There was a short pause before the voice replied, “I am Lady Kynareth, my dear child.”_

“ _K-Kynareth,” Talia stuttered, “The divine?”_

“ _Indeed,” Came the reply._

_Talia only stood there for a couple moments, eyes wide in surprise, and the wind twirling her shoulder-length, golden hair behind her. “Why have you brought me here?” Was the next question to stumble out of Talia's mouth._

“ _I brought you here to speak with you.” Kynareth said with a warm and comforting voice._

“ _About...?”_

“ _The Forsworn” Kynareth said plainly._

“ _What about them?” The girl asked, more confused than ever._

“ _They need to be stopped.”_

“ _Why?”_

“ _They have plans of conquering all of Skyrim, little one.”_

_Talia's eyes widened, “So they aren't just settling for owning the Reach?”_

“ _It seems so,”_

“ _But what can I do? I don't even know how to properly use a blade.”_

“ _More than you know,” Kynareth said, ominously._

“ _In the next days to pass, however many you see fit –within reason – you will go to Whiterun. There you will find a priestess inside my temple, or wandering the streets. Speak with her of where the Eldergleam resides. I will say no more.”_

_Talia frowned, she didn't like being told what to do very much. Normally she just dismissed it, leaving someone else to do what was told of her. But in this case, when she was 'speaking' with a divine, who was she to argue?_

“ _What is the Eldergleam?” She finally called out, but received no response._

_All around her the the world seemed to fade and drift away. The hills darkened and turned into plains. The smells of the flowers dimmed until they couldn't be smelled even by the most keen of noses. The water stopped flowing and disappeared into nothingness. The entire world her mind had created faded into the void._

Then she woke up.

* * * * *

He awoke with a start, the air was cool and a light wind was in the hills. The fires of the camp were barely lit, offering little light. The moon shone in the sky, close to the eastern mountains. Morning was coming. Skoulf untangled himself from his bedroll and slowly stood up, unstiffening his joints. The cool air slightly chilled him, the sun was not present to battle back the cold. Frost sprinkled the camp, letting it glisten and shine in the light of the dim fires. Not many people were awake, just the few guards patrolling the outskirts of the camp.

There were slight streaks of pink and orange in the western sky, creating what looked to be a beautiful sunrise. Small talk could be heard echoing off of the rock faces since so little sound was in the air that morning. It was a colder day than many days before, it was nearing winter and it seems that nature has decided to show it, too. There was the faint crunches of people boots as they made steps to do whatever menial task that took out some time in their day.

As much as Skoulf was concerned, the men and women of the Forsworn could do whatever they wanted; go hunting, go raiding, even wear 'proper' clothes and do some trading. But they didn't, they feared him too much to even do anything that involves leaving the camp without his permission. It almost angered him with them not being able to do things for themselves. But it was just something he had to live with he guessed.

Skoulf decided to wait for a few more hours to see if the men were better than last time. He didn't have a chance to check yesterday as he was needed to help out another tribe under attack from the Stormcloaks. It was all he hoped for at the time; how could he lead if no one wanted to follow? Most of the Forsworn didn't think that Skoulf cared much for them and only used them to forward his own goals; something said to be done by Ulfric Stormcloak a good while ago. But that was entirely false, he cared for them more than anyone could understand. Not in the usual sense though, he didn't care for them like children but like brothers and sisters.

A few hours had passed and the sun was nearing the centre of the sky. Most of the Forsworn were awake, except for the few who were on night watch. From what Skoulf saw, the small raid on the weapons shipment had worked; the men and women looked far more cheerful than the day just after the burning of the backwater farm. Skoulf went over to the 'armoury' to see which weapons had been sharpened and ready for use. The armoury was just a large tent housing multiple chests and weapon racks. It was only supposed to be temporary but ended up being permanent.

Most of the weapons had been sharpened, except for the few still being worked on and the others that didn't need it. It pleased Skoulf to see the men and women doing so much work, and that their moral had returned. The sun was beaming on the camp, the birds were chirping, and the breeze was refreshing. It was turning out to be a good day for him.

 * * * * *

She sat up, awaking to the warmth the fire in the main room created. _Was that real? Did I really talk to a divine?_ These questions were ones that she woke up with. She remembered everything the divine said; she had to go to the priestess in Whiterun and ask of the ‘Eldergleam’. It seemed so real though, the talking, the world that had been created. Was it a world of her own creating, or was it created by the divine? She didn’t know, and wasn’t sure that she would figure out. The only way she would know if she really _did_ talk to a divine was if she made it to the Eldergleam. She decided to leave out in a few days, although it sounded somewhat urgent, she wasn’t going to leave her father just for something she wasn’t even sure she was real.

She slowly got out of bed, funny; she forgot to take off her travel gear when she went to bed the previous day. She got out of her dirty clothes to be washed in the coming days and got into some of the extras she packed along with her. Once she was into her cleaner clothes, she got walked gingerly out of the room and into the main one. She didn’t see Hulgrid anywhere; perhaps he was still in bed? The fire was low and almost out, but still had a couple flames rising above the wood. The room was even warmer than her own, which warmed her up very quickly. She walked over to the stone fireplace and tossed an extra log onto it, which once was beside the place it was thrown into.

She then walked over to one of the chairs in front of the fire and sat down, looked over to the table and saw a small note rested up against a plate with bread and some a chunk of venison roast on it. Beside the plate, what looked to be a drink of ale was in a tankard which looked like it had had years of use. The note read:

_Hello my little Masser,_

_I have left off to go to work for a few hours. Feel free to visit me at the forge; I will just be there until late afternoon. Go ahead and have your share of the food in the pantry, and keep the fire alive please. I will speak to you later today._

_~ Your loving father, Hulgrid_

She set down the letter and grabbed some of the bread and venison and took a bite of each, then took a swig of the ale. She shook her head after setting down the alcoholic drink; still wasn’t used to drinking. She strolled around the house since she had only seen two rooms of the entire place: the main room and the bedroom she spent her night in. Eventually she decided to get some fresh air after seeing what the pantry had to offer, it was filled with food. Bread and dried meat filled the shelves while other fresher produce was locked in a colder room filled with ice.

She walked over to the door and opened it, feeling the soft breeze that filled the air against her, cooling her off. The fresh air was great, it wasn’t all stuffed up like the air in the house and she felt like she could fully breathe. It was still raining a little, not a lot though. Talia wondered once more, _did I really talk to a goddess?_ As that question and ones like it were rolling around in her head nearly begging to be answered. As if Kynareth heard her thoughts, the rain cleared and the clouds flew away from the city, revealing the sunlight.

_Guess that answers it,_ Talia thought, _I really_ did _talk to a divine._ Her mouth dropped open, not even intentionally. She stood awestruck for a couple moments, then shook herself out of it and gazed around the city. The sun reflected off the entire city, making it look golden. There was chatter bouncing off the rocks of the city from the market place below. Talia ended up walking back inside though to put on her boots and go exploring the city. The first place she decided to go to was the blacksmith’s hut where her father worked. The ground was steaming from all the water evaporating from the sun, and it just made the place seem even more Dwemer than before. She walked off to the small hut next to the streams that fed the pool at the bottom of the city. Everyone seemed cheerful enough; smiles were on most of the faces around the market place but not all. She eventually found her way to the hut, and there was Hulgrid once more, hammering away on something that looked to be a sword.

“Oh, hey Talia!” He said once she got close enough.

“Hey papa,” She replied.

“What are you doing here?” He managed to say while working on the blade.

“I decided to go and see the city since I haven’t done so in years.”

“Ahh, and you decided to see me first eh?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to see what you’re up to and perhaps ask if I could have some gold for spending.” She said hopefully.

“Sure, just take a purse over in the strongbox over there.” He said as he stopped hammering and pointed to a small box on the counter over on the other side of the ‘room’. Talia walked over and opened the box; it had many small bags and purses full of coin. She looked for one of the fullest ones and grabbed it and quickly tied it to her belt.

Hulgrid saw what she was doing and spoke up, “I’d advise you don’t do that in this city,” He spoke between swings onto the sword.

“And why is that?” Talia asked, quite confused.

Hulgrid sighed slightly, “Despite this place being filled with coin and silver, most of that money goes to the Silver-Blood family and the jarl: Meaning that everyone else makes very little coin here. Be wary of the kids here, most have given in to a life of crime and will steal whatever they can from you.”

“So where would I put the purse?”

“I’d keep it in hand or somewhere like your backpack.”

Talia placed the purse into her backpack. “Thanks”

“No problem.”

She walked off to some of the stalls right next to the main gates while trying not to breath in the fumes from the silver smelters. _How can anyone work at those, they must not live for too long?_ Talia thought to herself as she walked across the stone walkway that was hugging a huge cliff rock face. The stream was beginning to flow normally like it was the night she had arrived at the city. She overheard a few of the merchants trying to sell what uninteresting supplies they had. “…Fresh meat, upgrade your palate from stews and bread with great, juicy meat!” Spoke one of the vendors. “…All jewellery is handmade and with great craftsmanship! Buy the ring you’ve always wanted!” Said another. Complete rubbish, Talia thought, the food looked to be a few days old and the jewellery had flaws and imperfections in it. Not all the pieces, but a few.

She just walked past the vendors, ignoring whatever they had for sale. If she wanted more variety she guessed she would have to go to Whiterun. She went into the inn once more to see if there were any other types of food in stock. She was hit by the warmth of the fireplace again as she walked in. She once again heard the sounds of distant chatter and the smell of ale and mead. There wasn’t anything that was different in stock though, just the same old food from the days previous.

She walked out again to find anything else of value. Perhaps some snowberry wine, something made quite often. Or perhaps some kind of wine from Cyrodiil, Talia liked wine, it was the only time she really enjoyed alcohol. She searched the stores for hours but couldn’t find any wine that was actually good. After a disappointing search for wine, she found herself in the Understone Keep. The Stormcloak soldiers stood guard, a few of them looked like they were going to nod off at any time. They were constantly shifting their weight from one leg to another, and hands on their weapons, ready to draw them in a moment’s notice. Unless they fell asleep, which seemed very likely.

Talia just rolled her eyes at the tired guards and looked over to her right. A flight of steps lead up to a door guarded by more Stormcloaks, she decided not to go there. Then to her left, a small pile of rubble was there but it lead into what looked to be a massive room. She walked over to it, seeing a certain table she had never seen before. It seemed to be the colour of ebony and had strange blue lines written across the top. Candles flickered away on the back of the strange piece of furniture and dimly lit the skull lying on top of it.

She approached the glowing table with curiosity. Then she saw the man right next to it, he was in robes which looked like something a mage would wear. He looked to be a Dunmer, his crimson red eyes shone in the dim lights of the candles. He didn’t seem to have any weapons on him, but she suspected that he had magic to use instead. He was sitting in a chair made of the golden, Dwemer, metal and was reading a book. The title of the book was “Dwemer Animunculi” and the pages were covered in a green case.The title of the book was “Dwemer Animunculi” and the pages were covered in a green case. It was embroidered with gold trimmings and looked to be worth a lot. The Dunmer heard Talia’s footsteps and quickly turned his gaze from his book to her and then back to his book.

Finally he spoke when she approached, “Is there something I can do for you?”

Talia jolted a little when he spoke suddenly, “Err, I doubt it. I’m just looking around.”

“First time to the city?”, his eyes never left the book.

“Second, but this is the first time I’ve been here in many years.” Her eyes were going all over the big room, from the uneven and jagged rocks on the ceiling to the neatly cut stone to form a bridge. “So what are you doing here?”

“Reading.”

“About…?”

“The Dwemer.”

“And they are…?”

The man sighed and looked up from his book and let it rest on his lap, “The Dwemer were a very advanced species which used to live all over Skyrim and Morrowind. They built many things, most of which were underground and then suddenly one day, they vanished.”

“How?”

“That is something we have yet to discover.” The man paused for a moment, but not long enough for Talia to fit in another question. “What’s with all the questions?”

“I don’t know, I just want to know what you are doing here.”

The Dunmer sighed again, “I am here to learn of the Dwemer and their culture. Something the houses of Morrowind have been too lazy to do.”

Talia frowned, the man’s answers only brought up more questions to ask. The Dunmer spoke once more, before Talia could speak again. “So why are you here?”

“I’m visiting from another place in the Reach.”

“Seeing the sights this city has to offer?”

“No actually, to see family.”

“Ahh, it is always nice to see relatives,” His eyes had returned to the book quite some time ago.

“So what’s the book about?”

“It’s called ‘Dwemer Animunculi’. It is a book that speaks of the Dwemer ‘robots’ of sorts and how they work and where they reside and what their purpose was in Dwemer society.” His eyes turned from his book to Talia again. “It is a very expensive book, cost me a good three hundred gold.”

Talia’s eyes widened. _Why would a book be three hundred coins?_ Was a question that popped into her mind. “A lot of information must be stored in it to be worth that much.”

“Aye, it does. It was written by an adventurer who had delved countless times into the ruins himself.”

“And who is he?”

“He is currently the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. But some say he is the Dragonborn of legend, too although no such thing has been confirmed.”

“And the Dragonborn was the one who saved the world from the dragons right?”

“Yes, indeed,” The Dunmer confirmed. “And he saved the world from a vampire named 'Lord Harkin' and then from Miraak, the first dragonborn.”

“Wow, he certainly has saved the world a lot, huh?”

“Yes, indeed. Some people believe him to be a better hero than the Champion of Cyrodiil.”

Talia raised her eyebrows and scoffed. “He was a _far_ better hero.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, first he was locked in prison and then, by chance, was saved by the Emperor and set free, where he saved what little was left of the city of Kvatch and Martin Septim inside.” She paused to get some air, “Then he got relics of the divines and daedra and stopped an oblivion gate outside each city and then unified them, then saved the Imperial City from Mehrunes Dagon.” She took another deep breath. “Then he went on a holy pilgrimage to all the nine’s shrines and collected the relics of the Knights of the Nine and stopped Umaril the Unfeathered.”

“You certainly know your history eh?”

“I’ve heard many, many tales of him and his adventures.”

The man smirked, but was covered by the book he was still reading. “How many tales of him have you heard?”

“Enough to know that he is better in my opinion.”

“Well you don’t know that,”

Talia rolled her eyes. “But I do, he was once a thief but then completely redeemed himself. From what I’ve heard, the Dragonborn was gifted with the ability and it was by chance that the Champion of Cyrodiil was chosen, it could’ve just as easily been someone else.”

“True,” The Dunmer admitted. “So, what is your name girl?”

Talia pursed her lips slightly. “Talia,”

“Pleased to meet you, my name is Vellas of House Telvanni.”

“And I am pleased to meet you, too.” A small smile made its way onto Vellas’ face. “How long have you been here?” She added.

“Only a few weeks. I came here since Morrowind’s Dwemer cities are either cleared out of anything useful or are too far away from a city.”

“So you chose the one made out of a city.”

“Exactly. There is still an old Dwemer city just through the doors over there,” He pointed across the stone bridge and over to a pair of golden doors which were up a set of stairs. “And a lot of the things in it are functional. There is also a lot of Dwemer metal still there that is disconnected from the walls and is unused.”

“What is so interesting about the Dwemer?”

A large sigh came from Vellas at the question. “To me, everything about them: Their way of life, the way they made the Animunculi, the powers they held within their halls!” He paused to calm himself before speaking again. ”All of it is fascinating to me.”

“So you know a lot of them, like I do with old stories?”

“A fair amount. I wouldn't be here though, if there wasn't any more to learn.”

“True,” Talia admitted.

They spent the next few hours talking with one another, each telling a quick story or bit of information from their respective knowledge. Stories like how the Champion of Cyrodiil delved through countless dungeons and did many good deeds to gather the relics of divines, or the many technological advances that the Dwemer made, including rumours of having the heart of Lorkhan. They told countless stories of each until the sun was going down, not that either of them would know. Eventually they each said their goodbyes to one another and Vellas returned to reading his book, while Talia left the keep to go back to the house she somewhat called home.

During her way home she began to think of the vision she had witnessed and tried to recall everything about the place she was at during that time: the soft breeze against her skin, twirling her hair slightly behind her, the gushing of water in a small stream nearby and the sun brighter and softer than she ever had experienced. She had heard of the sun being like that down in Cyrodiil, and made a mental note for her to make her way down there eventually. She made it into the house soon enough and was greeted to Hulgrid tossing some more wood into the fireplace. They talked casually for the next bit, and Talia decided to let her father know about the vision she had had and her decision to leave in a few days, two shorter than she had planned. Hulgrid just nodded and said that if she was contacted by a divine that she should do her best to listen to them.

The next few days for Talia consisted of spending a few hours in the air-tight house that belonged to Hulgrid and conversations with Vellas, he seemed like a good enough of a person and Talia decided to see him later, and made him promise to stay for at least a few more months to which he responded that he wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon. The days she had spent there were great, Talia loved seeing her father and having made another friend, which never seemed to be in short supply for her, but she had to leave at one point or another. It was a few hours before noon when she decided to walk back to the farm, Hulgrid was nearly in tears when she had to go but made her promise to return soon to which Talia swiftly agreed.

With a deep breath she began to walk towards the main gates. The guards opened the gates slowly, but it was to be expected. With a final look over her shoulder, she walked out of the city and back into the wilderness.


	7. The Road to Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia finally makes her way back to the farm. Unfortunately for her, she is going to need to return to Markarth far sooner than she wanted.

The road was just as it was the last time Talia saw it, just in better lighting. She could only see the road go up a small ways until it couldn't be seem anymore over a hill. She felt good though, her legs were up for the walk and she hoped her feet would say the same. The air was crisp and cool as seemed to be the norm in the Reach. It was nice to feel the soft breeze against her, it only seemed to invigorate her more. The sounds of birds could be heard clearly in the surrounding hills. With each step, Talia only thought more of her family and that she would have to leave soon after she arrived at the farm to go to Whiterun. It was not something Talia really wanted to do, but since it was ordered by a god she had to comply.

Her mind then drifted over to Olavmar, the wandering man who just so happened to be on the road the same time she was. He had a house in Whiterun she remembered, one that she could stay at for the night she would be there. It seemed she would have to visit him sooner than she had previously thought. The only thing Talia was hoping for at the time was there not to be too many things that would decide to take her as a snack or for other, nearly worse, reasons. Thinking of those made her shudder and direct her mind back to something else. The sun that day was in the sky, nice and bright but not like in her vision was a few days ago. It was occasionally blocked by a few clouds rolling across the sky, but soon left and revealed the sun once more.

To pass the time Talia decided to hum and softly sing a few songs she knew. Some were more directed towards war while others stayed on the more pleasant side of the spectrum.

_There is nothing that they can do,_

_to protect the king and his fool._

_Caught in the fire, watch it burn._

_Ash to ash, now it's our turn._

_Take their kingdom down and smash it to pieces._

_Do all you can, they will be defeated._

_They will grumble at the sight of our legions._

_If you want the crown then you've got to bring them down._

This ode was one she had heard occasionally sung by her mother after her days as a Stormcloak. She never sung it while father was around, and when he left it was sung even less. There were other songs she sung that weren't as war orientated but none of those were sung as much as the song used for inspiring the Stormcloaks to boost morale. The song stuck with Talia for the next few hours that she was walking along.

The sun was still very high in the sky and Talia expected that she would be back at the farm by the next day. The breeze had turned into a wind that seemed to come from Whiterun hold. It began to seep through Talia's clothes and touch her skin, cooling her beyond comfort. But she braved it out and kept walking, nothing would stop her, she hoped. She wandered past an old fort that day, and what she saw didn't bode well. There were bodies strewn everywhere and crimson pools surrounded the bodies as well as the road. The stench of death was all around her then, and she saw what looked to be Dawnguard soldiers lying among the lifeless people. None could be saved though, they looked to be dead for at least a few days. The rest, and majority, of the bodies were Forsworn, Talia guessed.

They wore whatever animal they had hunted and stitched together and their weapons were some of the most crude, but intimidating she had ever seen. They were made of what looked to be reinforced sticks with spikes all over the weapon, only letting up in places where it might hurt the wielder. Talia felt her stomach start to churn and threaten to empty at the smell of the scene before her. She quickly glanced around to see if anyone was there, worried that they might still be lingering around. After for what seemed like forever to her, looking intently to see if there was anyone around, she broke out into a small sprint, only long enough to get away from the stench.

After the bloodbath that Talia had witnessed, she was shaken by it: it was the first time she had ever seen someone dead. She forced herself to remain in good spirits and not let the most common thing that happened in this frigid country ruin her day. Now she was slightly paranoid, worried that someone might jump from the rocks above and end her life just like the men and women outside the fort.

The roads were far less populated than Talia expected, absolutely no one was on the roads today. It struck her as odd since the day she had left off to Markarth she had seen about half a dozen people, Olavmar included. The birds were still chirping, not that they had a reason to stop though. The breeze had only slightly intensified since her departure from her father and the golden city. But it still was just enough to begin to chill her. She would probably never get used to the weather of Skyrim, all the snow and bone-chilling wind. She had plans that when she had seen most of Skyrim she would take off to Cyrodiil. She heard it was far warmer there than Skyrim, and there was less rainfall. It almost seemed too good to be true, and yet it was.

Many nights of her's were spent thinking off all the different provinces of Tamriel. The places she wanted to visit, the adventures she could have, the people she would meet. More than once she found herself fantasizing about being an adventurer, or knowing one, or even married to one. But the last of them seemed to be the most unlikely. She was just a farmer, unheard of except for the few people she had met. While it seemed nice, she knew it wasn't. She had heard too many stories of the Champion of Cyrodiil and the Dragonborn alike. They were tasked with too many quests and small things residents of Tamriel needed that they either just turned them down or took forever to complete them. They had almost no time to themselves, and that was something Talia didn't like the sound of. She wanted to be a _real_ adventurer, not one who did anyone's bidding, but one who made a name for themselves by doing things on their own.

From all the tales of adventurers she had heard though, Talia always enjoyed listening to the Champion of Cyrodiil's the most. From what the stories she had heard told her, he was a Nord who lived in Skyrim himself but left early in his life. He had been a ranger for a lot of that time and when he made it into Cyrodiil he decided to go a more evil route. He began to steal and pocket anything he could and then sell it off for a high price. But one day he was captured in the Imperial City and locked in the dungeon for a few years. Then the emperor went right into his cell, which contained a secret exit that lead out of the city.

He was let free and followed the emperor until his untimely demise. Then he went on to do great things, realizing that he was given another chance. He became the Hero of Kvatch, then the Champion of Cyrodiil, then also the Holy Knight who slew Umaril. Talia nearly worshipped the man, he had done everything he could and saved the world, until he met his own demise at the hand of the Dark Brotherhood. Some even say that it was the Listener himself that killed him, yet it was never confirmed.

To this day, Talia hates the Dark Brotherhood, but also fears it. If that guild has the ability to murder an emperor _and_ the Champion of Cyrodiil, then it was definitely something to fear. But the hate for the Brotherhood has never diminished in Talia, killing her favourite hero was the one thing they could really do to anyone outside her family to make her harbour hatred towards them. There were rumours that she had heard from the local mercenaries that her mother hired as guards had said. Most of them were ones the previous man had said but there was one in particular that intrigued her the most.

It was that the Hero of Kvatch had kept a journal with him and wrote in it almost every day of what happened, where he went and what he did. No one really knew where it was, but a few stated that he had given it to a very good friend of his before his death. It was something that Talia wanted to find, but could never do so since she was too young to leave the farm and go out adventuring. It was also far too dangerous for her as well; the many creatures that roamed the lands of both Skyrim and Cyrodiil would have no difficulty killing her if they wanted to.

She would need some training at least, and preferably a companion, along with her on any of her adventures. It might be that she would need to hire one, but she hoped she wouldn’t have to. She had nearly no money to her name and it would take too long to make enough to hire them. Money just seemed to be something that she couldn’t collect. She had no idea how people like the Dragonborn were able to collect thousands upon thousands of coins. Such a thing seemed nearly impossible to her.

She was very excited to see Olavmar again. He was very nice and had a lot to speak of when she met him last. It would be nice to see him once more. She wondered which house was his in Whiterun, was it small or lavish? The same questions she wondered about Hulgrid’s house, she wondered about Olav’s. She personally didn’t care if it was lavish or not but it would be preferred if it was. Hulgrid’s house was in the middle of bare and filled. She had never seen Whiterun, she hoped it was better than Markarth though. While the city looked nice in the sun, it had too much silver fumes in the air around it. It nearly choked anyone at the smelters and a few places near it.

The walk had silent and peaceful so far; except for the sight she had a small while ago. While she would’ve preferred not to see death and nearly lose her lunch, she thought it was better than being in a fight herself. She was never good at combat, especially since she had only been in it very many times. She had only slightly practiced with a few of the more friendly mercenaries at the farm. Some had been more willing than others, while many had been just there for the coin and nothing more and got rid of Talia as soon as she came up to them, there had been more friendly people who guarded the farm. There had only ever been a few who did such a thing. And even less were easy on her. Most used whatever skills they had learned against her and only after she was lying on the ground whimpering in pain would they tell and teach her to use their techniques.

But despite how hurt she got, she thought it was worth it. She would rather experience pain from a wooden sword and learn from her mistakes then, than not have the skills at all and most likely end up dying from them later. While she didn’t want to learn the skills, she knew they were needed. She had heard her fair share of tales of both Dragonborn and Champion of Cyrodiil and the creatures they faced. The daedra are what terrified her the most when hearing tales of the Holy Knight. They were so ruthless and nearly destroyed Tamriel with Mehrunes Dagon. Monsters like that, were the ones worth fearing Talia thought. They had the power to end the entire world of Mundus; they tried to before. Not many tales had been told of them though, so they were far more mysterious than most other things roaming the lands.

The birds had long since quieted down and Talia was just left with her own thoughts as she walked back to her home. She was excited to go home, but knew she couldn’t stay long. How would she be able to tell ma of what she had been tasked with? Would she even believe her? Kynareth seemed to have the best interests but something like that confused Talia. Why had she told her of the looming Forsworn threat? And why was she even interested in it? If she was ever blessed with another vision, she would be sure to ask a few of the questions she had. The breeze seemed to warm up slightly, which was a nice relief to Talia since the breeze had been chilling her before.

The sun was on the horizon by the time Talia was a few extra hours away from the farm. She decided to take camp under a rock to provide a small bit of shelter. It probably wouldn’t rain, but the weather, and Kynareth, were almost completely unpredictable. She took a few small chunks of firewood out of her backpack and placed them in a small pile near her feet. She grabbed some handfuls of moss growing on a nearby rock in the dying light and tossed that onto the soon-to-be fire. She got some fire in her hands after a while of trying to remember how to cast the spell, and shot a tiny burst of flames at the small pile at her feet. The pile set ablaze instantly and was soon crackling away. Talia leaned up against the wall of her small shelter and pulled her cloak’s hood over her face. She closed her eyes and then quickly went to sleep.

The sun was in the sky a small ways from the mountains when she awoke. The fire was now a small pile of embers, trying with all its might to stay alive. Talia groaned when she tried to get up, all the walking made her quite sore. But she braved it out and got up regardless of her right leg screaming at her. The morning was nice, it was cool but the sun was combating it back quite nicely. The breeze from yesterday had died down but had been replaced with a small fog. It barely hindered her vision, but still did by a bit. It would be another few hours before Talia made it back to the farm. She hoped everyone was doing fine, especially her brothers, Elmgul and Lasknir. They looked up to Talia; she imagined they were missing her out of their minds.

It wasn’t easy having brothers, but they never bothered her too much. It was nice to have them around, always someone to talk to. But they had nearly nothing in common with her and one of them and Talia ended up into heated arguments about something or other. One time it was about father, they had begun to believe that he didn’t love the family and left and would never come back. Talia stood in their father’s defense and told them of the reason why father left. Another time it about the worship of Talos. With it being outlawed by the Thalmor, they wondered if he was even real, which Talia, knowing the many stories she does, got them to re-believe he was. For all their disagreeing and quirks, Talia still loved them and would be devastated if anything would happen to them, including ma.

They were the most important people in her life, and might always will be, but she hoped not. Eventually she was going to move out in a few years and then lead her own life away from the farm. Where her life would lead her she didn’t know. She only hoped it was nice wherever she was lead. She knew she would go to Cyrodiil and then maybe even to Morrowind if she thought she could ever brave the ash. Skyrim has and always be her home though; it just had something about it that she loved. She might not be in Skyrim herself in her later days of life but she knew that she would always feel at home in the frozen tundras and mountains of Skyrim.

The walk seemed to take forever, step after step, one foot after the other. It seemed that she would only have another few days before an even longer walk. It made Talia’s feet even worse just thinking about it.

Hours had passed; the fog had given way only to have the air filled with another breeze. It was lighter than the one the previous day and warmer too. It still chilled her slightly but it was better than the one before. The birds were nowhere to be seen or heard today, so the only sound that filled Talia’s ears were the crunching of her boots on the road, the small rushing and gargling sounds of a stream, and the sounds of the trees swaying. It was soothing to say the least, but empty as well. It was something she hoped would not be on the way to Whiterun and to the Eldergleam.

She was walking up a hill when she saw the windmill and chimney of the farm. No smoke was rising from the chimney, the windmill’s fan was moving far slower and had streaks of black all across the wood. The thin material that was used as fins for the windmill was nearly completely gone and again, was charred. Now Talia began to worry, was it burned in a night when she was gone? She hoped not. Her heart started pounding from what was going on and she hastily climbed the last of the hill. The house she had lived in her entire life was now barely standing. The roof was gone, the walls were only half standing, and whatever was left had marks of fire being on it.

Tears started making their way down Talia’s face; she didn’t even bother wiping them away. She mustered all her strength to walk over to the house, and what she saw was even worse than the house itself. There were three bodies lying around the house, charred and completely unrecognizable. They lied on the floor of the main room and looked like they were cut down mid-stride. She fell to her knees, tears finally turning into rivers. She was in too much shock to even scream. Her entire life had just been destroyed, her family was dead, and her house destroyed, anything she ever liked; gone. She didn’t know how long she sat there crying, she didn’t care. Her life was gone, and she didn’t know what to do next.

Her tears finally subsided, but it was nearly dusk by that time. She finally got the ability to stand after a few more minutes. Her breath was fast and uneven, her pace was more than slow, her mind raced to find an explanation. _Who did this? Why would they do something so horrible?_ These were questions that stuck with her and she wanted nothing more than to just lie down and cry. But she didn't even if she did start into another fit again she doubted she could make anymore tears, her clothes were soaked enough from her previous session. Then something dawned on her and she knew what she had to do.

She walked over to the old storage shed, it wasn't burned but the door was kicked down and anything of value was taken except for one thing; a shovel. She grabbed it gingerly and walked back to the house. She pried a few planks off with ease and began to dig. It was dark by the time she had dug the holes, they were deep enough and fit her family's sizes. Then came the most difficult part, she walked into the house and found her mother, her charred remains near a small pot; probably was once more stew. She knelt down and picked her mother up, being careful not to drop her. She walked back outside and gently placed her in the largest of the three holes she had dug. Then she moved the others.

Only a few more hours later and she had buried them and used the planks to make small crosses on them. She decided there was a good place to sleep for the night.

Morning was no easier for Talia emotionally. She wished that she had woken up and it had all been a bad dream of some sort, something crafted out of Vermina's will. But it wasn't they were still gone and Talia was still alone. The sky was blocked out by the clouds which created an overcast day. Small drops of rain came down from the sky, perhaps the divines were mourning too. Talia barely could catch a glimpse of her destroyed life without bursting into tears once more.

But she got control of them quicker than last time, she then looked back to the hill she had spent so many days at. She walked up to it and decided that that would be the last place she went to before returning prematurely to Markarth. The hill was exactly like she remembered it: the stump she sat on was still there, all the flowers that lasted every single month without dying were there too. The only difference about it was a giant footprint just beside the stump in the mud. Well, the man who ordered the attack was a giant, Talia knew that much. His foot was one of the largest she had ever seen, her feet were about half his size. Some of the flowers were smothered, but it didn’t affect her nearly as much as what she just endured.

She then walked back down the hill after letting out a heart-broken and sad sigh. She packed up her tent and walked back to the house, it was still a very sad sight. Nothing was left in the house, it was completely bare. Whoever attacked the farm took anything of value. She walked back her campfire and kicked it down to prevent it from spreading. She began to walk back to the road that led her to Markarth, it was the only place she had left now. She took one last look at the life she had had, let out another sigh, and walked off back to the golden city.

* * * * *

Hulgrid was sad to see her daughter leave. He knew she would have to go eventually, back to ma and the boys, but it seemed too soon. He loved being able to see the girl she had not seen in years. They had spent much of their time at the farm together; she helped chop the wood, hoe the ground, plant the seeds and build the shed. They were nearly inseparable, and when he had to leave, it hurt him more than any blade could. The look on her face when he was walking away was not one he liked to remember; tears rolling down her face, the sad look in her eyes saying “Don’t go,” and her desperate attempt to call him back. He shuddered at the thought of the memory, he always did.

The day was returning to how it was without her, hammering away on some weapon or other and living with no one to talk to, besides customers. It was a lonely life he had, but anything to allow his family to keep the farm. He was hoping to save up enough for the family to move to Markarth but that would require a lot more gold, enough to buy a bigger house. He had been living in the warrens of the city down by the silver smelters for a few years before he saved up enough to move into the inn. Then he saved up even more to buy a house from the jarl. It cost him a good four thousand gold.

His life was a simple one; he had become the blacksmith of the city from his previous experiences with the hammer and anvil. After the previous blacksmith, an Orc, left the city to go back to their stronghold he became the next one. He had walked over to the jarl and asked him if there were any jobs available and it turns out that the blacksmith’s job was open, Hulgrid reluctantly accepted. It was a better job than working over at the silver smelters, breathing in all the fumes the silver lets out during its “purification” ends up killing most people after a few years. He couldn’t support his family if he was dead.

He expected the next time he would see his daughter again would be in another few years, it was already arranged for her to return in E4 221; another four years. It seemed like such a long time, and in many ways it was. By the time he would see her again she would be twenty-two winters old. She would’ve moved out of the farm and hopefully have her own house. It was something she was concerned with; where her life would take her. She didn’t know where she would end up, but then again no one ever does. When she left she would be given a sum of money to help her on her way from the farm, kept by her ma. From what Hulgrid knew, there was a good three thousand gold saved up for her.

He was sitting in his chair, letting his mind wander and drinking a mug of ale. He always did prefer ale over mead, there was just something about it that he liked. His mind wandered everywhere from what different customers he would meet tomorrow, to Agnifa. Gods how he loved that woman, she was a Stormcloak when he met her, after the battle of Markarth. She was healing up everyone who was hurt and injured in battle, Hulgrid was one of the few civilians who got attacked. She healed him for the next few days and over that time they grew attached to one another and then got married once the civil war was over. She gave up her Stormcloak ways and started a farm with him to which they had their first child; Talia. It was a nice life, but they couldn’t get enough money to keep the farm if they kept selling vegetables.

The fire was crackling away in the back of the room and the light of it illuminated the entire room like it had the day Talia had arrived. He was eating a small loaf of bread until he got lost in thought a little while ago. All was silent throughout the house and nothing else but Hulgrid was in it.

Then there was a knock on the door, it jolted Hulgrid out of thought immediately. He sat up and hurried towards the door. For someone to knock this late at night would mean they’ve been travelling for a while. But who would knock on his door? Perhaps the guards Hulgrid thought. Perhaps they needed another batch of swords made up for the Stormcloaks since the battle with the Thalmor was not too far away.

He went to open the door and saw Talia standing there with a very depressed look on her face. “Talia? What are you doing back here?”

She only replied by her eyes watering up and falling into Hulgrid, crying into his shoulder.

He was very confused. _Why has she returned? And why is she in tears? Something bad must’ve happened, but what?_ Many questions like that crossed his mind, but he decided to speak them later, when her tears had subsided and she was able to speak again.

Finally, after they had walked into the house and closed the door and after a while of Hulgrid embracing Talia in his arms, she finally spoke in between stifling sobs.

“So I went… Back to the… Farm… And… It was… Burned to the… Ground.” She fought the urge to cry again, and continued her story. “So… I buried them… Outside the house… And came… Back here.”

Hulgrid was in complete shock, there was no way she was faking this. She rarely cried, even when she had gotten more injuries than he could count, not a single tear went down her face. But she was quite emotional, and if anything bad happened to something she really cared for, she couldn’t do anything else. She was strange in many ways, and he had never known anyone like her. Not that it mattered much though, he didn’t care. She was his daughter, and he would accept her for anything she did, although he might not approve of everything she did.

Tears began to well in his eyes too, but he wouldn’t let them loose until he had found out the entire story.

It was an hour later and Talia had gone right to sleep to rest herself and Hulgrid tried to do the same. He just couldn't believe that the family was gone, and wondered who was responsible. Perhaps he would go and take revenge on them? Or perhaps he would just stay in the walls, making weapons for others to do that job. He didn't know, it was probably going to be the latter though. If he died, Talia would have no one to live with, and would sleep on the streets. He shuddered at the thought.

It was a sleepless night for Talia, while Lady Vermina haunted her with memories of her family. She was plagued with nightmares for most of the night, a few of them even got a scream out of her. This always got Hulgrid's eyes to shoot open, and then slowly start to close them once more. Hulgrid didn't sleep that night, he was just too shocked to sleep. It was going to be a difficult day at the forge, was one of the things that his mind said, and he knew it was true, it takes a lot of energy to hammer away on hot metal all day.

But he would need to speak with Talia and get her to retell her tale of her time at the former farm, and that time would be in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was far easier to write out since I had the whole thing planned out in my head, poor Talia.  
> This chapter also fills in some of the blanks about Hulgrid, Agnifa and how they came together. The way they met is definitely cliché, but I don't care. I didn't want to spend too much time figuring out how they met.  
> The ode is slightly modified from a section of song that already exists, I just thought it would fit in nicely into the story.  
> The name of the song is "Break Them" by Aero Chord, link is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nnAy1906EHg


	8. Mourning the Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia and Hulgrid mourn the deaths of their family. During that time, Talia gets prepared for her journey to Whiterun.

“So, what happened at the farm?” Hulgrid asked, he was sitting in a chair, the very same one that he had sat in when Talia arrived the first day.

Talia had awoken a short time ago and Hulgrid didn't sleep. She had nearly burst into tears the time he had asked when she woke up and decided to wait a few hours before asking again. Her nightmares from Lady Vermina were all of her experiencing the death of most of her family over and over again. When she awoke, she cursed Vermina under her breath.

Talia took a few deep breaths before responding, “So, it was a normal day, fog was in the hills and it was quiet. I had just climbed up the final hill when I saw the farm; it was burned to the ground what looked to be days earlier.” She took another few deep breaths to calm herself down. “I had walked over to the house and saw Ma, Lasknir and Elmgul all lying down on the burnt floor of the main room. They looked to be cut down mid-stride from how their bodies laid, but were nearly completely unrecognizable. No features were left on them to tell who they were, so I had to guess which one was which by their size alone.”

Hulgrid felt his eyes water, he had only met Lasknir once when he was very young, and never even got to meet Elmgul. A lone tear made its way down his face when he thought of never seeing Agnifa again in this world. The love of his life was gone, and it was only him and Talia now. All his family lived back in High Rock and probably didn't even know he still existed. He only had one member of family left in Skyrim, he would not lose her to anyone in this land.

The fire was cracking away but was dimmer, it lit only one side of Hulgrid's face but illuminated Talia's. Her usual, straight-standing posture was gone and instead she was slightly hunched over and had small, dark bags under her eyes. _Even though she got some sleep; it looks like Vermina wasn't easy on her last night._ Hulgrid thought to himself.

“Was that all? Was there anything left at the farm?” Hulgrid spoke between slow bites of bread.

“Only a shovel in the old shed you and I had made years ago.” Her voice had no ring of joy or happiness in it like he had heard mere days before, but a tone of sadness.

“I see...”

“Was there anything there important you needed?” Talia said, her tone lightening up a slight bit.

“ _I_ didn't need it, _you_ did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was sending money to you personally for Ma to keep until you left the house in search of a new one, it would be enough money to take you nearly anywhere you wanted to go in Tamriel.”

“Oh,” Her voice then sounded even more depressed, something Hulgrid didn't think possible. “Why not Lasknir or Elmgul?” She choked on the sentence, it was very difficult for her to speak their names.

Hulgrid shrugged, “I didn't send money for them since Ma sent me a letter saying that I didn't have to, they both 'wanted to stay on the farm' or something.”

“So it was only I who was given money to travel?”

“Yes, you were the only one there who didn't want to stay. Ma wrote letters of it to me,”

The entire house was filled with depression, neither of them bothered to mask or hide it. They both had lost the only members of family in Skyrim, and they were the closest emotionally too. That was where the conversation ended for a bit, they both stayed in silence, neither could add anything else. It was only when Hulgrid stood up and started to head to the door was another question asked.

“Where are you going?”

“Well I have to go to work, Talia. I can't mope around the entire day, I recommend going outside too, maybe the air outside will help, or you could speak to your friend you've been telling me about; Vallen or Vellar or...”

“Vellas,” Talia corrected.

“Yes, him. I don't want to see you sad all day, try and find whatever good you can in life right now.”

Without another word he stepped out of the house and made his way towards the small hut he worked in, leaving Talia alone to hear the fire crackling away behind her.

She stood there for a while afterwards, listening to the fire twirl and dance in its pit. She felt too sad to move, too sad to leave. But she got control of herself eventually and stepped out to the city. It was a dark and raining day, it seemed like Kynareth was sad too, or perhaps just wanted it to be raining here today, she didn't know. It wasn't like she would be able to find out too, she suspected the next time she would speak with the divine would be once she found the Eldergleam. She didn't want to go though, she was still mourning, it didn't seem like she could do it. Making it to Whiterun seemed a more difficult task every time her mind went back to it. But it was there, nagging her to be done. It wanted, needed, to be completed.

And it would be, but all in due time. Talia suspected she would be out and off to Whiterun in a few days, she only hoped that would be true. The sooner she was out of this silver fume-filled city the better. Despite the city looking nice in the sun, she couldn't stand the smell of the place. The pollution was enough alone to want to make Talia leave. The people were alright, the kindest one she knew outside her immediate family was Vellas. Most were not the friendliest people she had met. The sun rarely showed it's face and the place was mostly filled with fog and rain. At least from the days she had spent there.

Her life was changing more than Talia ever thought it would, and more than she thought she wanted. Her family had been killed by barbarians, something which her mind had been probably screamed at her and she just didn't listen, she had seen her father for the first time in years, she had made two friends only being there for a week and she was contacted by a divine on some task she needed to do. She was a wreck. She didn't know what to think of her entire situation. She finally concluded on what it could be, and she thought it was crazy.

Vellas was more than willing to comfort her when she told him of what happened too. He was sitting in the same chair that he had been for many days now, head still pointed at a book when she walked in. He instantly knew something was wrong, her posture was askew. It took her a little while to calm back down from the fit she had entered from Vellas. But once she was better she told him the story. He was never surprised by what Talia told him, but he had a face of sympathy for her the entire time; it made her feel a twinge better. Once she had ended her story, she nearly fell into tears again; Vellas helped stop her from doing so.

She quickly changed the subject as quick as she could so she didn't have to think of her family the entire time. Vellas had a way of making her forget everything else in her life and only imagine up the things he spoke of. Like how the Dragonborn had made his way into an old Dwemer ruin and retrieved an Elder Scroll. It sounded like something out of legend, but then he also said that she could go to the tip of the Throat of the World to see the warp left there from him using it. If she knew how to shout; something she didn't know. He saw the look of Talia's face stating “I can't,” and then added, “You can go to the monastery of High Hrothgar to learn if you can spare a few years of your life.” to his story.

She doubted she would spend a few years in some secluded monastery learning something. It sounded a bit too boring for her to follow through with. But she felt like she could, and would do it if it was needed. Or she had another reason for doing so.

They spoke on length for a few hours. It was something everyone in the keep was used to. The ones that could hear their chatter and occasional gasp in surprise, most of the time emitted from Talia. The guards never seemed to mind, but a few of them always quickened their pace whenever they had to walk by on their patrols. They were a prickly bunch, the ones that stayed in the keep. The ones outside were at least a little better, and the one she had spoken with the day she had met with pa for the first time in years seemed to be the nicest of them.

Finally, it was time for her to return home. When she walked out of the keep, the sun was setting, letting off orange streaks across the sky. The air had changed from a pleasant breeze to a slightly chilling one. There was little chatter bouncing it's way off the walls of the city. Many shops seemed to be closing too, it was getting to the time when they would need to return home. When she got home Hulgrid was there, he was sitting in a chair by the roaring fireplace at the back of the open room. He didn't even respond to her opening the door. When she sat down, Hulgrid looked up with a weary face, eyes red, no doubt from crying, and he looked to be drunk. He shot a small smile towards her and slurred, “How was 'r day?”

“Alright,” She responded, trying her best to ignore the fact that he was drunk.

“Better since thi s'morning?”

“Yeah, I had a good talk with Vellas.”

“Good, good...” His eyes closed after that, Talia assumed he was going to sleep.

She let the drunken man snore away while she sat in the chair next to him and thought. She thought of what will happen from now; _when would she leave to Whiterun? How would she make father let her leave? And what would she do when she was outside the city?_ Many questions made their way in and out of Talia's mind, but all wanted an explanation.

After spending what seemed like an eternity thinking of how she would answer the questions she thought of, she decided it was time for her to pack in for the night. She returned to the bed she had slept in for many nights now, and promptly fell onto it. She shut her eyes and then swiftly fell asleep. This time however, Vermina never decided to toy with her dreams, much to the relief of her when she awoke. But instead had a dream of how her life was like before. Vermina was not being kind though, she kept playing the same dream over and over, Talia's life on the farm. Making her wish more and more for that old life back, one that she would never have again.

* * * * *

“What??!” Hulgrid's anger bounced off the walls of the house, only made worse by the hangover he was suffering from. “You expect me to let you wander off to Whiterun all by yourself after what happened no more than a week ago?!”

Talia stood her ground, but remained calm the entire time during their argument. It had started rather abruptly when she had asked, explaining that she had to go to Whiterun very soon. She then described the vision she had had with Hulgrid, detailing the whole world she had experienced and the conversation that her and Lady Kyne had had.

“As a matter-of-fact I do,”

Hulgrid's anger only seethed further. “Why? So you can chase after something vaguely described by something who has never contacted anyone else before?”

“Yes,” She sighed. “Look, I don't want to go as much as you,” Hulgrid shot a glare which stopped her for a moment, but she continued. “But I have to go, Lady Kyne said I had to, the whole of Skyrim is at stake.”

Hulgrid just shook his head slowly, fist slammed into a nearby table. “If I let you go...” He chocked on the sentence slightly. “Do you promise to return?”

Talia was shocked at how calm the sentence was, she then understood why Hulgrid didn't want her to leave.

“Yes, I promise I will return to you, I have in the past and I have no intent to stop now.”

Hulgrid smiled slightly, sighing. “Good, then I guess I shall let you go, you _are_ your own woman. I sometimes have to remind myself of that.”

“It's fine, I appreciate the concern more than anything.”

“Alright, when do you think you will go?”

“A few days from now.” Talia said very matter-of-factly.

Hulgrid sighed. “Good, means I still have a few days with you.”

* * * * *

Her packed weighed her down considerably, but she didn't mind. There was a small leather tent, a few waterskins, a hatchet forged by Hulgrid himself, and enough foodstuffs to last two weeks. They had gathered the supplies over the course of a few days. Everyone was happy to sell them, it seemed like not many bought stuff for travel around there. Only problem was all the gold needed for the supplies. It had come right out of Hulgrid's coin purse. But he didn't seem to mind too much.

They stood just near the city gates. The market stalls were right beside them and were selling whatever they could. Hulgrid got a bit closer and hugged Talia, kissing her forehead as he did so. “Come back to me,” He said through the kiss.

“I will, don't worry too much. I'm sure it will take no more than a month.”

“Still, a long time for you to be gone without a home. You sure you've got enough coin?”

Hulgrid had demanded that if she was to head out that she carry at least five pounds of coin, which turned out to be around five hundred septims.

She shook her pack, feeling the weight of it fling her a bit more than expected, but heard the unmistakable clink of coin. “I'm sure I have enough.” She chuckled.

“Alright then,” He sighed. “Just return, I will hopefully have something prepared for you when you get back!” He had a hopeful smile on his face.

“I think I'll enjoy that,” she smirked.

“Then let's not wait any longer.”

Hulgrid started for the gate, and Talia followed swiftly behind him. The guards noticed the pair going to the gate and opened it as fast as they could. The golden doors opened like they had the first time Talia had left the city in the past weeks. It brought back painful memories. But she started out the gate after giving Hulgrid one last hug and walked past the stables, and back into the lands she had known to love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saddest chapter I've written so far. It ended shorter than the previous since there was not a lot more to add or that I wanted to add more. I'd rather stick to the happier sides of the story, so the next chapter will be mostly that.  
> Now some of you may be wondering what happened to Skoulf, he will be shown in later chapters but not these few as I have not thought of something he could do, Plus it would be very miscellaneous and I doubt anyone would want to read that. So he will be in later chapters for sections but not for the time being.


	9. Finding the Eldergleam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia makes her journey to Whiterun at the request of Kynareth. Then she goes to the Eldergleam and meets the legendary Dragonborn along the way!

The road looked just like it did the first time Talia walked along it. The guards were still making their usual rounds and the miners of the small village were wandering around; apparently they had nothing to do. The farmers of the nearby farm working tirelessly like they had days before. The wind was strong outside the city; it threatened to blow her cloak right off. Her travel gear slowed her down from how much it weighed but it was better than going without she supposed. The only thing that Talia noticed that was different was that there was a group of tents set up with a bunch of Khajiits milling about doing nothing. There was one chopping wood, another mixing some food in a pot above a roaring fire and one sitting cross-legged in one of the larger tents. Talia assumed he was the one who sold goods. But she wouldn’t be able to buy anything; she wasn’t in any need for anything which was what the gold she had on her was for.

The wind thankfully wasn’t as chilling as it normally was in the Reach and had some warmth to it; but not much. While the wind moved, clouds from over the mountains of Markarth came and covered the remaining sky. The clouds looked to be from Hammerfell from the direction they came from, but Talia wasn’t sure. The only thing Talia hoped for was that rain would not be something she would have to deal with for the days of her travel. She didn’t know how long it would take her to find the Eldergleam; it seemed like a huge task. Walking all the way to Whiterun was no small feat to her. If it took her a few days to make it to her former house from Markarth; she doubted it would take her less than a week to make it to the trade capital of Skyrim.

The world seemed to go by faster than she was, the clouds moved with incredible pace and it seemed like it was already getting darker. And it was; the moderately grey clouds were being replaced by much darker ones, promising rain. She sighed at the sight. The less rain she had to deal with on her journey the better, and snow for that matter. Neither was any good. With any luck the clouds would pass by soon and not be able to soak Talia too much. Perhaps the permafrost tundra of Whiterun hold would have less rain than the Reach. She didn’t know, but she could hope. And that was all that she was doing at the time.

No matter how hard Talia tried, her thoughts occasionally strayed back to her ma and brothers. Her last memory of them was when she had left off to Markarth. They had all missed her; that she was sure of. That fact only made it worse. She would never be able to see them again in that world. However much she wanted to see them again didn’t want to as well; she knew what they would be if she could; mindless zombies. She shuddered at the thought, and nearly began crying again. That would be the last way she would want to see her family. At least she had Hulgrid, she didn’t know what she would do without him. He wasn’t there for a lot of her life, but she was willing to forgive that. The only reason he did so was to support the family anyways.

Hours went by and Talia passed the time by humming tunes she knew and remembered. She sung the ode to the Stormcloaks the most, and a few others were sung as well. Her mind trailed everywhere while she was walking, she had no-one else to talk to, so that was all she did. Her mind went everywhere from her family, to where she would go when she was a few years older. She had only a few years to prepare with leaving off on her own. She was excited, but terrified by it at the same time. Once she left; she would be free. And that meant she would be without a home for a while. Perhaps she would live like the Champion of Cyrodiil for a while; always roaming around without a house for a few years.

She never knew any stories about the Champion’s early life, before he escaped from prison. All she knew was that he was a thief before he was captured. There were no stories of his life before he had escaped. It almost seemed to be a blank slate. But he had a journal; something Talia would love to have. He had it when he was on his adventures; he was alone most of the time and was not known for having companions. Then again, if she had the journal she would be able to know if he _did_ travel with others. She knew so much about the man, but so little too. She knew more than the average person but not nearly as much than someone living at that time. Like chancellor Ocato. He passed away some time ago though; she would never be able to learn what he knew about the man.

Her mind went to many places during her travels. All the way until the sun was gone and replaced by Masser and Secunda. Once they were high enough in the sky, Talia finally decided to sleep. She kept on going since she wanted to make it to Whiterun as soon as she possibly could. She knelt down and delved into her pack to get her supplies out. She was still in the Reach and decided that she would not need to use her tent that night and didn’t set it up. She got a small fire going at her feet as she huddled under a small alcove beside the road on her fur roll. She was in a deep sleep quite soon after she lied down.

The next few days were filled with more walking, gazing at the landscape and a lot more thinking. She hummed her favourite tunes along the way. Whiterun was as exciting as people make it seem; a bleak, brown, permafrost-covered plain. The landscape rarely seemed to change, it stayed the same. But she eventually saw what looked to be the city of Whiterun a few days into the frozen plain. Every day it got closer and closer and the main keep, Dragonsreach became more and more impressive. Talia hoped the city lived up to its praise. It was supposedly the trade capital of Skyrim because of its location. It was also supposed to be where a man of old, who lived during the time of dragons, captured one in the keep.

She had heard tales of the other cities besides Markarth, during her time in the golden city and time on the farm; from mercenaries and just random people looking for someone to talk to. More often than not she would speak at length with those people looking to talk. She hadn’t spoken with a lot of people and knew more of some old legend who died over a century ago than her own homeland. While she wasn’t a Nord, she was a child of Skyrim nonetheless. So she often tried to get the people she was speaking with to talk about the province, its cities, its terrain, and its residents. And often times she heard very similar reports.

But she eventually made it to the gates of Whiterun. After a full week of walking, Talia felt like she could just fall into a bed and sleep for an era. The guards were clad in Stormcloak armour, she had found out from one of the guards back in Markarth. They had been the rebels in the civil war for Skyrim and lead by Ulfric Stormcloak. From what she had heard, he only cared about being on the High King’s throne. By other accounts he wasn’t. She knew that he was defending people so that they could pray to Talos. She liked that they had kept Talos in their pantheon instead of trying to remove him. While she didn’t astutely follow Talos like others, she certainly did believe in him; especially after what she had heard that the Champion of Cyrodiil did in Sancre Tor.

The guard saw Talia walk up through the drawbridge and up to the gate. “Looking to enter the city?” The man spoke in a complete uninterested tone in his voice.

“Yes, can you please open the gate?”

The man shrugged and then made his way to the gate and after a few moments of pushing, opened it.

“Thanks.” She was about to walk away until she remembered. “Is there a priestess of Kynareth here?”

“Indeed there is, she would be by the Gildergreen this time of day I reckon.”

She continued on her way into the city. “Alright, thanks!”

“Anytime,”

The city was certainly filled with trade; that much was for sure. Merchants lined the streets and many voices of people trying to sell what they had in stock could be heard. Sounds of a hammer banging against metal could be heard to her right. An elder woman stood over next to the wall of a building and was hammering what looked to be an axe eventually. Talia continued her way down the centre of the street, passing by a lot of merchants. After running into one of the few people of the city not selling anything, she asked if there was an inn nearby and the woman instantly pointed to the Bannered Mare. She thanked the woman and continued on her way.

After climbing a set of stairs, she saw another elderly woman sitting on a bench. But she was dressed in priestess robes, the bright yellow of the cloth seemed to absorb light and give it a nice glow.

Talia approached hesitantly. “Hello, um, are you a priestess of Kynareth?”

The woman looked up at Talia and gave her a warming smile. “Indeed I am, what do you need my child?”

“I was sent here to find you.”

“Is that so? By whom?”

She took a small breath and spoke. “Kynareth,”

“Ahh, so it’s you,”

“You know me?”

“Yes, Lady Kyne spoke to me of your arrival.”

“So you know what I am looking for, too?”

“Mhm, you seek the Eldergleam. For what reason, Lady Kyne has not said, but I know of its general location.”

“Not it’s exact?”

“Unfortunately no,” A small frown went onto her face. “But I can give you its general location and you’ll be on your own from there.”

“Alright, better than nothing. But you don’t look like the kind of person who travels. So how would you know where it is?”

“I had a very helpful person restore the Gildergreen here,” She moved her hand in its direction and let it fall back onto her lap.

“Who was he?”

“I didn’t know when I met him, but he turned out to be none other than the Dragonborn.”

Talia raised her eyebrows. “Really? You met him?”

“Most of the older people here have,”

“Right, well can you mark down its location on my map?”

The priestess’ smile got even wider than it already had been. “Of course,”

Talia pulled out a new-looking map from her backpack and set it down in front of the woman. The priestess drew out a small wedge of charcoal and drew a small circle around the land of Eastmarch.

“I don’t know its exact location, sorry.”

“It’s alright; better than thinking it was in Hjallmarch, eh?”

The woman chuckled. “Heh, indeed,”

“Oh, one more thing: how long ago did you meet the Dragonborn?”

The priestess cocked her head slightly. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I’ve been wondering the time when he saved the world and stuff, I heard it was about sixteen years ago.”

“Yes, that was the time. About sixteen years ago.”

“Alright, well, will I need to see you again?”

“Only if Lady Kyne wants it,”

“Alright,” Talia said as she began to walk off and back down to the inn.

It was midday but Talia felt like it was night time and she hadn’t slept in ages. She quickly rented a room and decided to leave after she had woken up and got a meal.

She awoke and it was approaching morning. The innkeeper, Ysolda, was asleep. Talia awoke her to get some food which she tried to be alright with. She still made a grumble and grunt every now and then though. Talia wolfed down the meal like she hadn’t eaten in weeks and got some extra food for the road. After getting everything she needed, she walked out a few hours before sun up and made her way out of the city and back into the frozen plains of Whiterun.

* * * * *

Talia had been walking for a few hours and she was thinking she was close to Eastmarch. But her map told her she was still a few days off. So she walked for the next few days and finally made it to a crossroads. Along it was a man wearing robes the likes of which she had never seen before and had no weapon on his belt. She quickened her pace to avoid the man; he was probably a mage who would attack her when he got the chance. Unfortunately the man spoke up before she could get out of the way of him.

“What's the rush?” The man’s voice was deep and had a heavy Nord accent.

Talia stopped dead in her tracks, “A pilgrimage of sorts, why do you ask and want to know?” She spoke with annoyance in her voice, just hoping to end the conversation as soon as she possibly could.

“Just wondering. It's dangerous along these roads.” The man said with what Talia could take for concern in his voice.

“I can take care of myself, I've made it this far.” She said with as much venom as she could, which wasn’t much.

The man bit his bottom lip, he was obviously trying to make the conversation go better for him. “So, where's this 'pilgrimage' taking you?”

Talia sighed, “To the Eldergleam, all I've heard is that it's here in Eastmarch but I don't know anything else about its location.”

“Ahh, seeing that beauty eh? I know where it is, pull out your map and I'll mark out where it is.”

Talia’s attempted look of annoyance then changed to one of gratitude, a warm smile made it's way onto her face and said “Wow, thanks! That'll save me a few days of travelling.”

The man chuckled slightly, “Anything to help out someone in need,”

“How do you know of where it is?” Her tone was completely back to the way it normally was.

“Oh, well I made the journey there myself a long time ago.”

“Oh really? How long ago?”

The man paused; obviously trying to find the date. After a few moments he finally spoke. “Around sixteen years ago.”

“Huh, how odd,” _Could it be that this man is the Dragonborn?_ Talia was beginning to assume.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because when I talked to the priestess off in Whiterun she said that someone had helped restore the old tree in the Wind District about just that time ago.” A smirk made its way onto Talia now.

The man sighed, “Yeah, I was the person who helped her.”

Talia's eyes went wide. _So it_ is _true! Pa won’t believe me when I tell him this!_ “S-so your the Dr-Dragonborn?” She stumbled over her words trying to get them out.

“What makes you say that?”

“The priestess also said that the man who had helped turned out to be the Dragonborn.”

The man sighed again. “Fine, I am indeed the Dragonborn, can I ask a name from you though?”

Talia was about to fall over, but kept her balance. She then paused at the question, like she wasn't supposed to tell others. But then gave him her name anyways, “Talia, my name is Talia.” _I only hope that that doesn’t end up hurting me in the end…_

The man nodded slightly, “Pleased to meet you, Talia”

“Pleased to meet you as well, Dragonborn,” She took a deep breath then asked, “Where are you going off to? Going to save the world again?” Her voice was filled with sarcasm, but with a hint of playfulness in it, too.

The man chuckled at the second question. “I am going to High Hrothgar, I want to see the Greybeards again.”

Talia rolled her eyes, “There has to be more to it than that,”

“And why should I share it with you?” The man spoke, his voice almost as playful as her’s.

“Well you don't have to, but I'm intrigued by your answer.”

The Dragonborn sighed once more, looking at the stones in the road knowing that he wasn't going to be able to lie to her. “I am going to try and become a Greybeard.”

Talia cocked one eyebrow, “For what reason?”

“I want more to know of the Way of the Voice, the use of Thu'ums to worship the gods.”

“Oh, I see. Well, have fun climbing the seven thousand steps!” The man looked like he was trying to figure out if she was being sarcastic or saying that in earnest; which she was.

“Heh, I'll try. Anyways I _do_ in fact have to go, the quicker I make it Ivarstead the better.”

“And I have to go and find the Eldergleam. Perhaps I will see you again, Dragonborn.”

“Please: call me Thorlof.” The Dragonborn said as he waved away the title.

Talia slightly pursed her lips. “Ok... Thorlof, I might be seeing you in the future.”

“That would be nice.” Thorlof spoke as he began to walk away.

_By the Nine! I just met the Dragonborn!_ She was probably more excited than she ever had been before. She continued on her path, still shaking her head in disbelief of her chance encounter. She looked at her map once more and saw the little _x_ that Thorlof had placed on it and determined that it was near a small town called ‘Kynesgrove’. A fitting name for the quest she was going on. She camped outside in the snow she had encountered with Windhelm in the distance. She would make her way past the ancient, but still in-use city the next day. A day after she would be at Kynesgrove. After making her way past Kynesgrove and found that the Eldergleam resided in a cave in the ground, she got more food for her travels and still had a lot of gold left in her purse.

It took her a day to find the cave after leaving Kynesgrove. She camped outside the cave’s mouth that night but didn’t worry. After making her way into the cave after mustering up enough courage, she found that the place wasn’t that bad. Until she bumped into something she shouldn’t have. She walked right into a spriggan, but in return the huge living tree simply but gently pushed Talia out of the way, gave her a nod and kept on going. Talia thought her heart would explode from all the fear she had just felt. She proceeded to the magnificent tree with caution after that. She came across more spriggans after that but none attacked her, like they knew that she was not to be harmed.

She walked over to the giant tree on the top of the small hill in the massive room. It was filled with nature, which surprised Talia as an entire forest is not normally found in a cave. Once she made it up to the massive tree she had an instinct to touch it. She slowly extended her hand and touched the tree. Instantly she felt very tired, sleep overcame her fast than she could react.

When she could look and feel again, she found she was in another vision; one that would change her life even more than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am finally approaching what happens in the summary! I thank anyone who has continued reading this far. The summary will be spoke of in a few chapters; promise. :)  
> Oh yeah, and I had this planned from the beginning; the meeting with Talia and the Dragonborn. I had it written in one of my other stories (One Last Decision) which I am sure quite a few of you have read.


	10. Newfound Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia receives another vision from Lady Kyne and gets a special power from her. She gets to use the power, but it does more than she bargained for.

_She was in a forest, one with huge trees covered in moss, blocking most sunlight from reaching the forest floor. Blue sky was overhead, white clouds rolling by. A soft breeze was in the air, moving the pollen of the flowers by her. From where she stood she could see what looked to be a bay. Bright blue waters tumbling softly onto the white beaches of the shore. Tall grass and ferns were underfoot, doing their best at growing without much sunlight. The grass was of a beautiful but deep green, one she had never seen before. Birds could be heard singing within the lumbering trees. Large rocks stuck in the ground could be found and deer grazing by them._

_She sat underneath one of the massive trees, her back lying against it. She might as well relax while she was in this paradise. When she looked back to the coast she saw a small ship sailing by, it's bright white sails directing it's movements. The reflections on the water gave it a pristine and pure look._

_She then looked to her right, and saw what looked to be a spriggan. It didn't look like it was to harm her, but she made sure she had a fire spell in hand. It approached slowly, like it was noble. It's posture resembling one of a rich woman. Once it got close enough, it spoke. “Pleased to meet you again Talia,”_

_Talia turned her head back to the shore to watch the boat sail by and let the small flames in her hand die down. “Lady Kyne I presume?”_

“ _The one and only,” The spriggan proclaimed._

“ _Why have you brought me here?”_

“ _Because I wish to speak with you, is there something wrong with that?” No anger came from her voice, and she remained calm._

_Talia glanced back to the spriggan before returning her gaze to the shore. “No, but speak of what? I know the Forsworn are going to attempt to conquer Skyrim,”_

“ _I wish to bestow my gift to you,”_

_This piqued Talia's interests. “And what gift would that be?”_

“ _One I have not bestowed to anyone before.”_

“ _Why have you not given it to me before?”_

“ _I needed you to touch the Eldergleam and to take a small oath before I can grant it to you,”_

“ _Oath?”_

_The spriggan almost seemed irritated but kept her calm tone in her voice. “Yes, you will devote yourself to me and I shall grant you the power the likes of which no-one has ever seen or heard of - except in potions.”_

“ _And what would the 'power the likes of which no-one has ever seen before' do for me?”_

“ _What it does I cannot say, but I know that it will help you when in need_ _. For you see, you need to find out what it does for yourself.”_

“ _So the oath,” Talia paused for a moment, deciding on what to say. “I will be devoted to you like the priest in Whiterun?”_

“ _No, no, my child,” The spriggan shook it's head. “You will serve me in your own way, one that does not require worship.”_

“ _And what way would that be?”_

“ _Use my gift for good, and only good. Never for your own gain. If you do, I shall rip the power out of you.”_

“ _Would I be able yo regain it?”_

_The spriggan sighed, probably from all the questions Talia was probing her for. “Yes, by making a pilgrimage to my shrine in Whiterun, praying for forgiveness there, then going to one of the ones scattered throughout the land here in Cyrodiil, and praying for forgiveness there as well. That shall be the only way I will restore your gift.”_

“ _Alright, I am ready to take the oath.”_

“ _Good,” The spriggan smiled. “Repeat after me: I swear my loyalty to Lady Kyne,”_

“ _I swear my loyalty to Lady Kyne,” Talia repeated._

“ _For the rest of my life,”_

“ _For the rest of my life,”_

“ _And to use her power for good,”_

“ _And to use her power for good,”_

“ _Should I disobey,”_

“ _Should I disobey,”_

“ _May nature have mercy on me.”_

“ _May nature have mercy on me.”_

“ _Now you have taken the oath, my child. I shall be with you for as long as you use my power properly.”_

“ _Thank you, Lady Kyne. I promise to use the power you have granted me for good.”_

_The spriggan nodded. “I shall leave you here to explore and relax in the Great Forest for as long as you want. Nothing will harm you.”_

“ _Wait!” Talia shouted a bit louder than she meant to._

_The spriggan cocked its head slightly._

“ _How will I use my power?”_

_The spriggan smiled. “You shall know when you awake back in Skyrim, my child.”_

_With that, the spriggan faded away into nothingness, leaving Talia alone to hear the birds, watch the waves and enjoy the peace and serenity._

_It was a beautiful sight, a paradise compared to Skyrim. All of this put what nature there was in Skyrim to shame. It was the most beautiful and peaceful thing she had ever seen. The sun was at it's peak in the sky, from what she saw when she walked over to the beach. She removed her boots to feel the sand against her toes. A feeling she had never experienced before. If devoting herself to Kynareth meant that she could spend her afterlife here, then she would be the most astute follower there ever was. It was her own haven._

_When she noticed the sun was setting, Talia made no time in returning to the beach to see the sun fading over the horizon. It was a beautiful sight, one she thought was even better than the waves of colours that occupied Skyrim's sky almost each and every night._

_She looked to her left and saw the Imperial City, it was as pristine and beautiful as the rest of the landscape. Sitting atop it's hill in the centre of Lake Rumare. It's white walls standing high, a testament of time. The White-Gold Tower stood at the heart of the city, tall and proud, watching over the entire city. She thought of perhaps going to it, but decided against it. No need to be in civilization when nature was far more beautiful._

_That night Talia slept on the ground, in the tall grass and many ferns. Looking up at the sky she saw Masser and Secunda rise above the trees and into view. Masser, red as always and Secunda, white as the clouds. When she awoke, she noticed the ground covered in dew in the fresh and crisp air. It was as clear as it was the day before, with a few more clouds dotting the sky. The world didn't seem to change or age, kept in a perfect day cycle. It was something Talia would have to describe to Hulgrid when she got back. She decided to stay a few extra days in her paradise, Skyrim could wait. She just wanted a few days to relax and not have to worry about anything in the world._

_Her next days in the forest was great. She soon found out that she didn't have to worry about food, water, or even sleep. But it was something she could do if she wanted to. The deer never feared her and allowed her to approach them and stroke their fur. She never had to feel fear, worry, or anything. Just bliss._

_Eventually Talia decided it was best to go, leave the paradise she had grown so fond of. She couldn't stay forever, she knew that, and who knew how long she had been gone for? She finally called out into the wilderness saying that she was ready to return to the cold, frigid land of Skyrim. That night when she went to sleep, she dreamed of returning to her land and the troubles within it._

_She was leaving her paradise, and she would never know when she would be able to return._

* * * * *

She awoke with a start, sitting up from wall she had been leaned against. She was still in the cave, next to the massive tree known as the Eldergleam. She guessed the spriggans had moved her. She didn't feel stiff, so she guessed she hadn't been asleep for too long. _But that can't be right, can it?_ She asked herself. She guessed the only way she would know is if she went back to Kynesgrove. The small mining town just a few days outside of Windhelm. She sat up, dusted herself off, took one last look at the Eldergleam and made her way out of the cave.

Once she made it out of the cave she remembered. _I have the gift that Kynareth gave me, I wonder what it does?_ She hoped it would be easily figured out. She figured that she might've gotten a spell of some sort, or spells. So she rattled her brain for the spells she knew, and found one she didn't remember learning. Once she activated it, she noticed her hand glowing with a bright green energy. As bright as the green glow the spriggans had. When she went to charge it, it climbed up her arm. Swirling and twirling in ways that resembled knots on a tree. Soon her whole arm was glowing with the energy. And when she let off the spell, the energy slowly faded away until it couldn't be seen anymore.

_Odd spell, I wonder what it_ really _does..._ Talia thought once the energy had subsided. She was going to need to try it out to see what it did. That much she knew. What she didn't was, when and on who would she use the spell. But that didn't matter to her then, all that mattered was finding out what day it was and making it back to Markarth; to Hulgrid.

A day later she was back in the town she had recently visited; Kynesgrove. The innkeeper was surprised to see her back so soon. It would've surprised her too if she was in his shoes. She found out that she had been gone no longer than three days. The innkeeper was confused on why she asked, but gave her the information regardless. She had spent a week in the paradise, she missed it. There was nothing to fear in that land, unlike the one she was in currently. And it was nowhere near as beautiful. But despite all that, Skyrim was her home. Always has, always will be.

Her journey was uneventful for the most part. She made it past Windhelm without entering the city, as usual. She made her way past a nearly abandoned mill, and then past a shack ruined by a fallen tree. It took her a few days but she eventually made it to a place she could remember, but would soon regret walking past.

It was an old Nordic ruin, an outpost from the looks of it. It had a rising tower of near-black stone and a bridge leading to the other side of a raging river. There was another tower on the other side and what looked to be a trail leading up to the north. When Talia had made it past the first day, it was completely abandoned. This time a woman clad in what Talia guessed to be iron armour was leaning against the side of the tower, right at the door frame. There was a cooking spit and a small fire lit just by the door. Talia walked past, hoping the woman would just leave her be, but unfortunately she walked over to Talia and spoke.

“Stop, this here is a toll road see?” Her tone was harsh and cold. “You'll have to pay, oh I don't know, two hundred septims.”

“But I don't have that kind of money!” Talia protested. She really did, but she was hoping the woman would see her as dirt poor and let her pass.

“Well that's too bad,” Her hand began inching to the mace she had on her side. “Because you can't pass unless you have the coin.”

“Fine, I'll go another way then,” Talia said as she began to turn.

The woman chuckled, “Sorry, I can't let you go either.”

Talia got nervous now. _What can I do? I've never been in combat before,_ Talia thought to herself. Until she remembered the spell she had been given by Lady Kyne. “Then what choice do I have?” She was getting ready to cast the spell and it began to appear in her hand.

“Simple,” The woman's mace was in her hand firmly now. “You either die, or I give you to the men, I'm sure they're in need of some company.”

Talia's face filled with horror. _Does that mean what I think it does?_ “I'd rather die than what you're proposing.” She spat.

“Then I guess I have no choice,” She swung her mace at Talia who swiftly dodged it. She didn't know she could react so fast. But she knew that one hit from that mace and it was over.

Talia brandished her steel shortsword from her belt and held it in hand, her spell in the other.

“Pretty magic you got there, too bad you're never going to use it!” The bandit said as she went in for another strike.

Talia nimbly dodged the attack again but she knew she couldn't keep it up and she would be hit eventually. “I think I can beg to differ!” Talia shot back as she swung her blade which dug into the bandit's left arm, thick, crimson fluid spurting out of the fresh wound. The bandit howled in pain.

Talia dodged another swing before seeing what her spell could do. She let the magic go across her entire arm and then quickly cast the spell. It struck the woman straight in the chest but looked like it did nothing. The bandit was about to laugh from the spell but something stopped her and she gritted her teeth in pain.

Talia watched in horror as the woman let her mace fall to the ground with a loud clang as it hit the stone of the road and clutched her sides. Talia noticed the woman's teeth begin to crack from all the pressure she was putting on them. She began gasping for breath through her broken teeth and started wheezing. _What did I do to this woman?_ Talia thought as she found herself unable to look away. The woman then began violently coughing and hacking, desperately trying to get more air into her lungs. Then Talia saw the effect of what she had done. Blood began dripping from the woman's sides from under her chestpiece.

The woman then began coughing up blood, large amounts of it. Talia could see her sides seem to open, or do something it wasn't supposed to. It looked like she was disintegrating. After what seemed to be an eternity, the woman finally resided from the world and fell to the ground on her back. The woman left a large puddle of blood where she lied. Talia wanted to see what she had really done to the woman. After a few violent pulls Talia ripped the chestpiece off the dead woman and stumbled back at what she saw.

The woman's stomach acids had somehow managed to break free from their chamber and dissolve her body. She could see only mush from what was once organs, muscles and various other tissues. Talia lost what little lunch she had had at the sight. It mortified her from what she had done to the woman in front of her. It had been self defence but it barely made it easier. She made that woman experience some of the worst pain imaginable, all from Kynareth's gift. Talia certainly wasn't thinking it was a gift. More of a curse.

But there was no time to mourn over the loss of her former attacker, as the other bandits of the small but ancient outpost realized that someone had killed one of their own. _Looks like you're going to have to use the spell again, unless you'd rather die._ Said a voice she didn't recognize in her head. She stood up, wiped what bile remained on her chin and began the fight again.

Two bandits this time approached her. One charged at full speed but the other stayed back a ways. Talia dodged the attack and brought her sword down on the man's side, causing him to scream in pain. He didn't back down though, he ignored the pain he felt the best he could. Talia knew the other man would join in anytime soon so she spared no time and cast the spell onto the man she had just struck.

He too dropped his weapon and fell to the ground in pain, gritting his teeth the same way the woman had. The man had no shirt on, showing off his very muscular upper body. He wore fur pants and what Talia guessed to be hide boots.

“What did you do to him?!” The man who hadn't been in the direct fight asked.

The man stood still, watching the bandit he had probably called friend die one of the most painful deaths ever.

The man who was on the ground clutching his sides began to cough. Blood began to dribble down his chin from the exertion and let out a painful cry. The man nearly began crying from all the pain he was exposed to, Talia could see the tears form in his eyes. Talia watched a little less horrified as the man's belly fell apart and his insides which were nearly mush spilled out onto the road underneath him. “Kill m...” Was all be managed to say as his eyes rolled back and he fell face-first onto the stones below.

The other man who had watched the ordeal blinked twice as if wondering if what he saw was real. He noticed Talia begin to charge the spell up again and quickly dropped his weapon, fell to his knees and began to plead for mercy.

“Please, please don't kill me!” The man cried. “I won't hurt you in the slightest, I swear!”

Talia let her spell charge down but kept her sword ready. She nodded to the man and said, “If I ever see you again, I won't be so merciful.”

“Yea-” The man was just about to say until the chieftain of the bandit group came out, clad in Nordic styled armour with a weapon to match.

Talia let out a terrified squeak as she was the man sprinting towards her. She wasted no time in casting the spell at the man.

“Wait, don-” Was all the man managed to say before his leader was hit with the spell.

The chieftain dropped his battleaxe and fell to the ground, again clutching his sides in pain and gritting his teeth. He made low, nearly-primal grunts as well. The process went on again and Talia walked over to the only man left from the battle. “I think you should get new friends,” Talia advised.

“You're, you're letting me go?” His voice was completely full of hope.

Talia nodded. “But if I ever find you doing this again you'll end up like him,” She gestured towards the bandit chief now coughing up a sticky, crimson fluid. She tried to sound as tough as she could since she knew that that final spell had drained the remainder of her magicka. If he realized this, he would have no trouble in stopping her.

“Thank you, thank you!” The man got up from his knees and bolted, not even going to pick up his weapon; a finely crafted Elven sabre.

Once he was out a safe distance Talia sighed and a wave of relief came over her. She would've fallen to her knees from the exertion of battle if not for the pools of blood at her feet. She turned to watch the last bit of the bandit chieftain's life dribble away. He fell in a bloody heap of armour and flesh a few moments later.

Talia recovered from the fight quicker than she thought she would, and with a new attitude for Kynareth's gift. She had power, lots of power. But she remembered Kynareth's words. _“Use my gift for good, and only good. Never for your own gain. If you do, I shall rip the power out of you.”_ The tone she had had then made her shudder. She promised to use it for good, fortunately it seemed self defence was allowed. She tried to guess on what 'good' meant. She guessed she could not harm an innocent, use the power for her own gain like gold or otherwise, and so on.

When she recovered, she went on her way again. She would've picked up the sabre lying on the ground if had not been touched by one of the pools of crimson and if she had the sheath with her. Talia wondered to herself if she should share this to Hulgrid as well. If he asked, then she would tell him Talia decided. She would not share the gruesome battle if she didn't have to.

When she made it back to Whiterun, she was greeted by Ysolda again, a woman with red hair with streaks of grey. She had been helped by the Dragonborn as well when he got her a mammoth's tusk. Something I widened my eyes at when I heard. She had bought the Bannered Mare from the previous owner, Hulda, when she had earned enough money from a travelling Khajiit caravan. Talia spoke with Danica the day after, when she learned her name, and explained to her what Kynareth had told her. She supposed it was fine for her to speak of it to the priestess of Lady Kyne since she had devoted her life to the divine like Talia, just in a different way. She left out the parts of her using her power and simply said, “I haven't had a chance to use it,” She thought it was better to not say what it did.

A day later and Talia was back on the road, heading back out of Whiterun hold and back to the golden city and one person she could always return to; her loving father, Hulgrid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I wrote this I realized how gruesome it was. Oh well, if you can imagine it and feel that it's really painful, then I have accomplished my goal.
> 
> Regarding Talia's power, if it has any resemblance to Dragon Age: Inquisition it is completely coincidental. I have never watched any walkthroughs, let's plays, etc. about the game. Nor have I played the game myself.
> 
> What Talia's power does has been used by another story (Which was unfortunately removed from the archive for reasons unknown.) but has been altered a bit since I can't remember how it went in the story. *Chuckles*. And I thought chapter 4 was gruesome when I uploaded it...


	11. Diplomacy By Other Means

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skoulf recollects his time with the other Forsworn leaders and the combat that happened after. Talia meanwhile just wants to make it back to Markarth and hoping for a safe trip home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skoulf has made a return! I said he would didn't I?
> 
> Do note that this chapter is not for those who dislike hearing of brutal killings (Like last chapter) as this one features even more brutal killings!  
> Also, when I said that what happens in the summary will begin in a few chapters I mean like chapter 14 (Remember, I haven't written it yet so I don't fully know which chapter it is going to be).

He didn't know which was worse, the rain or that no-one travelled along the roads. It made everyone else seem uneasy. They all were itching to kill someone, and if he didn't find someone soon he didn't know what would happen. It had been raining for a few days now and had begun to erode the land. Mud, dirt and rocks fell over the roads all throughout the Reach. It blocked the road and effectively stopped travellers. So no-one would go along the roads, or travel in the Reach at all.

His patience grew thinner by the second, his weapon itching for battle, his hatred for the so called 'divines' swelling. Skoulf muttered to himself in his tent as the ground outside turned to mud more and more every day. The storm had started a few days ago and hadn't let up. Lightening was an often occurrence and thunder always came not long after. Skoulf knew that Kynareth was the cause of it. She _was_ the divine of weather and life, after all.

He sat in his tent, hoping for word of someone, anyone, to walk along the road so his axe could taste blood once more. His axe needed it, he needed it. To feel the weight of his axe rip through flesh like it had weeks ago at his somewhat failed attempt to unify the Forsworn.

* * * * *

His attempts at uniting the Forsworn through diplomacy worked out far worse than he expected. The leaders of the other tribes had come to his camp, seen the impressiveness of the heavily guarded camp ahead of them, sat down at the massive table Skoulf had a few people construct and listened to what he had to say.

“I have gathered you all here as I have something to say to each and everyone of you. As you know, our people; the Reachmen, are very divided. Now what I propose to you is that we unite as one, we will be far stronger than ever before. If we do this, Markarth will fall in a matter of days after we unite, Skyrim a few years later.” His eyes were hard, cold, but had fire in them, so much so it made a few of the other leaders uneasy and shift in their seats.

“Who would lead the Reachmen though? Madanach is dead, remember? Killed in Cidhna mine.” One of the leaders spoke.

Skoulf grinned a vicious grin and said, “Why I of course,”

A few people looked at one another, some nodding. They looked back at Skoulf who's grin was slowly fading. “You? What makes you think you're the best, eh? Everyone here is leader for a reason, all of us are a foe to be reckoned with in combat.” A few nodded and agreed at the words of the leader.

“You aren't even a true Forsworn!” Another insulted.

Skoulf sprinted at the insulter faster than anyone could react and the leader was in the air by his neck, kicking his feet to get free to no avail. “If you ever insult me in such a manner again I will waste no time in hunting you down no matter where you go and kill you in the most painful way I can imagine, do I make myself clear?” Skoulf said through gritted teeth, letting his voice raise in volume so everyone throughout the camp could hear.

The man desperately nodded, still kicking his feet to find footing which was too far down for him to touch. Skoulf smirked and dropped the man, letting him gasp for breath as he continued on with his speech. “I would like to have you know I _am_ a Forsworn, and a child of the Reach. I ma not have been born here, I may not be a mixture of Breton and Nord, I may not have been one for a long time, but that doesn't make me any less of a child of the Reach.”

“Now that that matter is out of the way: who will join me now so that we may conquer the Reach, and Skyrim, together?!” Skoulf shouted, his voice making it's way across the entire table.

A few stood up, placed their hands on their chest and said, “I am with you,” but many more sat in silence, not bothering to join. They wanted the Reach for themselves, and no alliance would last between the tribes.

Skoulf nodded a thanks to the few leaders who joined him and let them leave the table to go back and tell their tribe of what changed. “No-one else? Oh, this is not what I was hoping for...”

“The Forsworn can't be kept in a so called 'alliance' or 'unified' as you say! We want the Reach for ourselves and we will not let _you_ lead us!” One shouted, everyone else cheered for him, except Skoulf who was managing his anger as best he could.

He forced a smile onto his face. “Fine, if no-one else shall join me, I give you a month to prepare, or less.”

“Prepare for what?” One of the leaders said.

“Prepare for the day when I march on your encampment, enslave your women, slaughter your men, and burn your homes to the ground!”

“You wouldn't dare!”

“Then how else will we settle it, hm? A fight to the death in a makeshift arena?”

A few leaders looked at each other and nodded and then looked back at Skoulf, and then nodded again. Skoulf had never actually meant for that to be the case of course, but it seemed that he would be fighting one on one combat with the other leaders of the camp. The leader who won got the other leader's men, women, supplies, and camp. The loser had his head mounted on a pike in front of the camp.

They had constructed the arena faster than Skoulf had ever expected, it took no more than two days. Fortunately the leaders all brought their own tents so Skoulf wouldn't have to loan any out. When it was set up, a few of the leaders of the other tribes left, knowing that Skoulf would come upon their encampment with fire in-hand. But they left regardless and waited for the time when Skoulf would strike. Another few of the leaders swore their allegiance to Skoulf and left back to their camp which were officially under Skoulf's rule. And then those who didn't leave, would fight.

They watched as Skoulf and one of the other leaders, a man with thick, long, brown hair and clad in the traditional Forsworn armour, and wielding twin swords made of sticks and bone, entered the arena. Skoulf had a better weapon than the rival leader but it didn't mean much, it just meant that his weapon was of steel and his rival's of bone.

They flung themselves towards each other, and their weapons collided. Skoulf may have had a huge battleaxe and enormous strength, but this man had speed and a second weapon. This fight would be far tougher than he had thought initially. The man brought down both weapons onto Skoulf's battleaxe and staggered back from the blow, Skoulf sent a swipe his way which the man barely missed. Skoulf grunted in frustration. The man then went for some sideways swipes which Skoulf, in turn dodged as well. He saw an opening after the swings and brought down his axe to the now blocking Forsworn leader. His axe contained so much force behind it that it smashed through both the man's swords but didn't make it to him, instead chunks of bone went flying from his shattered weapons and into his face, causing the man to scream out in pain.

This was his opportunity. With the man shrieking in pain from chunks of animal bone lodged into his face, including his eyes rendering him blind, Skoulf swung down on the man once more and heard the sickening crunch of bone and the wet thud of whatever else he had hit. He looked to see the damage and saw that he had chopped through the man's skull, down his throat, through his torso and down his abdomen. He had completely split his rival in half. Each side of the man lie on the ground profusely gushing blood all over the ground near where Skoulf stood.

He made gestures for the next man to make his way into the arena. And so he did. He looked to be more Breton than Nord and had a small, lean figure to him. But being a Breton meant he had better access to magicks. Not good for him. He would have to keep his distance, or use magic himself. He strode into the arena like he was the best fighter Tamriel had ever seen, it made Skoulf scoff. The only person who had that right was the Grand Champion of Cyrodiil's arena. Anyone else couldn't prove they were the best, even if they were.

One of the men, Skoulf knew him by name as he was a hunter in his own camp, called out a set of numbers as the timer before the fight began. He finished on 'one' and let the battle commence.

The man did indeed use magicks in the fight. He threw ice shards the size of the man's lower arm most likely at his attacker but Skoulf stayed back. He had to, he knew very well the man could spray him with a constant stream of fire, frost, shock or a mixture of all three. So he waited for the man to drain his aetherial connection so he could make a counter attack. The man caught on eventually but he looked a bit light-headed and it was exactly what he needed. He dropped his battleaxe and cast an ice spike of his own. The Breton blocked it with a ward he had conjured up, but it had broken once the ice made contact, as did the spike. Skoulf cast another and heard another crunch of bones that might as well have been music to Skoulf's ears.

His opponent lie in a pool of his own life source and with blood hastily dripping down the ice, beginning to melt it away. It had gone straight through his rival's head. Causing chunks of bone, brain and what little flesh there was, out onto the wall behind him. Skoulf triumphantly picked his axe back up and waited for the next man to walk into the ring.

Another man, one who looked pure Nord walked into the arena. A shield of fine craftsmanship in his left hand and an axe which was as green as the grass was in his right. He stood a little smaller than Skoulf, which still meant he was a giant. He had battle scars all across his face and arms, he had definitely seen many battles in his lifetime.

The hunter counted down once more and the battling commenced once again. The Nord charged him dead on, sprinting at full speed with his shield raised high. _Oh, you poor fool._ Was all Skoulf thought of the man's decision. Skoulf simply sidestepped and the man went crashing into the wall. He couldn't even turn around before Skoulf's axe went down at a sideways swipe and chopped the man in half. A cry of agony was cut short as the man swiftly died. Blood gushed down like a waterfall onto the ground below, making large pools underneath the man as the man's guts started shifting down and falling out of the carcass.

Skoulf tugged a few times at his axe but eventually wrestled it free. He had lodged it deep into the wood of the makeshift arena's walls. He gritted himself for the next opponent to walk into the arena, and the next, and the next, and the next.

It was the final man left who even dared to oppose him anymore. Many others had just thrown down their weapons and just let Skoulf rule over their camps, as was what everyone agreed to when they signed the paper. The man was small. Very small. He looked like he was no more than nineteen years of age, which was probably correct. The lad looked the man up and down but showed no fear. It was the same leader who had insulted Skoulf about not being a Forsworn. He smirked and said, “Now I get to show you what people get when they insult me,”

The man snarled at the remark with his own. “You'll be hearing a lot more from me during this fight!”

“Unfortunate it will end so soon,” Skoulf said just before the hunter began his final countdown. The hunter's voice was going hoarse now from all the speaking he did. Skoulf had fought about twenty men, all ending in their deaths. Skoulf decided on giving those few leaders who just up and left one last chance to change over to his banner as he had so much manpower then any battle with another tribe would be laughably one-sided.

Once the man counted down to 'one' for the final time, the young man bolted into action, moving like a bolt from a crossbow. He moved at lightening speeds and Skoulf could barely keep up, or even manage to hit him. Everyone's eyes went wide when Skoulf obtained one of his first wounds in all the battles he had been through.

“Looks like you aren't the best at fighting, old man!” The young leader taunted. The man had a shortsword instead of something like an axe, or spells or even a good old sword. He used it well though and he got the blade dig into Skoulf's flesh on more than five occasions. But it only enraged Skoulf more.

“I bet I'll kill you before you even manage to land a strike on me, slowpoke!” The man insulted again.

Finally, after swinging like a madman for what seemed to be hours, he made a lucky strike and cleaved off the lad's ankle, foot included.

He screamed at the pain and crimson fluid began making it's way out of the man. He fell to the ground and dropped his blade, he looked up from the ground and saw Skoulf standing above him. He made to grab the shortsword but Skoulf kicked it away before he could do anything with it.

“Quite the mouth on you,” Skoulf remarked. “Didn't stop blabbing through the entire battle.”

“I'm... Still... In the fight!” The young leader spat through the pain at his foot.

Skoulf chuckled. “No lad, you see that's where you're wrong. You've already lost. But I am going to deal with you appropriately.” Skoulf grimaced, he looked like he had come from Oblivion itself, all he needed was the sky to be filled with red and the clouds to be dark, nearly charred to complete the effect.

Skoulf kneeled over the young man and said to everyone else. “This is what happens when you treat your leader with disrespect!”

He brought one of his massive hands down and forced the lad's mouth open. His other hand delved into it to find what he was looking for. He dug into what he wanted and caused the man to whimper in pain. Then he began pulling. He pulled and pulled again, each one bringing out a more pained scream than the last. Finally it was ripped out, and in Skoulf's hand was the lad's tongue. Blood dripping down his arm as he held it in the air for all to see.

The younger man was crying, he had no choice in the matter; the pain was too much to bear. He honestly thought he could beat Skoulf in one on one combat. He couldn't and this proved it.

“This is what happens when your tongue doesn't know when to stop!” Skoulf shouted to the crowd which had grown as of the removal of his rival's tongue. “It is _forced_ to stop!”

“Fetch me a hard surface,” Skoulf's gaze returned to the young, crying man. “Your death has yet to come, and I will teach you what it means to disobey.”

The man only let out a soft, defeated noise as he spat out more blood from the gaping wound of his no longer functioning tongue. He casted a healing spell, the only one he knew, but it did little more than block up the skin on his stub of a tongue. Skoulf saw this and said, “Best you not bleed out I guess,” He sighed. “The most painful part has yet to come.”

The large table-like structure was gotten a small while after, after the pain had died down in what little remained of the young man's tongue. They had healed and bandaged up his stump foot too, but it was only so he would live longer, and experience what Skoulf had in store for him. How he wished he could have a blade to end the suffering then! He knew that his death would be painful from Skoulf, it couldn't not be.

Skoulf got everyone to watch what he was going to do next, the walls were removed so people could see better instead of standing on rickety wooden structures. All watched intently, wondering just what Skoulf had in mind for the young lad.

“Now you have gathered here to see what I shall do to this, _insulter_.” His voice was grim, but also filled with a sadistic glee.

He knelt once more down to the young lad, then straddled him. _If he's going to do what I think he is..._ The lad thought in horror. Was this what he was waiting for? To be raped? He hoped not, death nearly seemed preferable at this point.

But to the lad's surprise he didn't rape him, no, he had bigger plans. He then raised his bear paws of hands and lowered them onto his face. He felt Skoulf's thumbs rest on his eyelids. _Oh, daedra no..._ The man thought to himself of what would happen next.

Then Skoulf began pressing. He pressed and pressed with all his might. Making his thumbs go down past the man's eyes, shifting them out of place and crushing them, he went deeper and deeper. And the leader just screamed. Skoulf ignored the blood that occasionally spewed from the man's eyes, and he ignored the screams too. He kept digging his thumbs deeper and deeper into the man's head and with one final push, exploded it. Sending chunks of brain, skull and an explosion of blood out in the direction of his gaze. Everyone stood back in horror, shocked by the drastic measures he took to end the young lad's life.

The young leader lied there for a while, letting what Skoulf did sink in to everyone and have it be a lesson; never insult Skoulf.

* * * * *

Skoulf smiled an evil smile as he remembered what had happened only a week before. Everyone came to fear Skoulf, and respect him too. But more fear was sensed by him than anything else when someone was in his presence. He hoped the storm would let up soon, been to long since he had been on a raid, pillage or ransacking of a house. Not ever since the farm. He shook his head to banish the thoughts of that boring old farm from his brain. He hated it, hated what it did to his men, hated what he had to go through to fix it, hated anyone who lived in it. Through the loud patter of rain footsteps could be heard, but barely. No sooner had Skoulf heard the noise had someone spoke.

“Skoulf!” He panted. “I mean, uh... Leader,” He corrected himself has fast as he could. “I saw someone along the roads!”

Skoulf who was glaring at the scout for his mistake at his new title, let the emotion slip and his eyes go wide. “Really? Where?”

The man panted, hunched over from all the running. “A few miles west of here, along the road from Rorikstead.”

“Who is he?” Skoulf demanded. If he knew who the person what, he could hold them ransom and earn enough gold for a few new weapons to the armoury.

“I think you mean _she_ ,”

Skoulf's eyes widened again at the words.

“Yes, a woman. I don't know who she is, a traveller from the looks of what she was wearing.”

Skoulf smiled another evil, “Let's not waste any time in finding her again then,”

They had found her, pulling her cloak around her to keep more warmth in her system. Soaked from the hike through the stormy Reach. They sat in silence, watching her. They waited, waited for the perfect time to strike.

* * * * *

She sighed as she saw what lied ahead. Storm clouds. She hated storms, she had only ever been in a few, but from the ones she had experienced she didn't want to know any more. But it was the only way she would make it through the Reach at the time. While staying in Rorikstead would've been a smarter choice, she wanted to make it back to Hulgrid with her adventure still fresh in her mind. The road had been long and boring. She sung her tunes to herself, let her eyes wander on the dull landscape, but found it all very boring. Not like when she was in her paradise. No, that was a better world. One she wished she could see again.

It made the entirety of Skyrim seem bleak in comparison. There it had been the warmest she had ever felt, the clouds rolled by being fluffy white. Not this slightly grey clouds they normally had. And the lake, it had the most pristine and pure looking that Talia had ever seen. She hoped she could see the land again. Perhaps not for an eternity as it would be very lonely, but for a time long enough to at least enjoy it. It was heaven, _her_ heaven. One that she could call her own and one that would always be there for her, if she found the way to return. She guessed she would have to touch the Eldergleam again first, but ruled that out. It had been a vision from Kynareth so she guessed that she would have to pray for her to enter the realm once more. It seemed the most logical answer. She only hoped it was so.

She walked without a doubt in her mind that she would make it through the storm. She was pretty sure she could still recognize the landmarks she used to find her way around the roads of this country. The road signs were there but not always the most reliable. She once saw a sign that said Whiterun was in the direction of Solitude, and she was on the eastern side of the city. But she trusted in her ability to navigate. She wasn't bad at it, she had made it back to the farm in fewer days than she had expected.

The farm. Oh, how she missed the farm. It was the second most missed thing in her life at the time. Her family was the first. Hulgrid was third, while she missed him, she knew he would be there when she returned. And was not dead unlike the rest of her family. Hulgrid had claimed they had family back in High Rock like nephews, aunts, uncles, and a grandfather or two. But frankly she didn't care. She had never met them before, she couldn't connect. It would be like conversing with someone you had met on the streets only to find that they had been friends with the same person.

Talia banished the thoughts from her head as she continued her hike.

Hours later and she was in the storm, bracing it as best she could. It was darker than she had imagined and the sky was lit in a deep, dark, navy blue. It offered little light to the storm. She could see patches of clear sky in the distance, which was the blue, but where she stood she was under the black clouds of the storm. Lightening danced along the sky and occasionally made contact with the ground.

When she turned her head to look at one of the rock faces, she saw something that looked to be the shape of a man. The figure was completely dark and she couldn't tell if it was or not but when she looked back she couldn't see the shape anymore. That bothered her more than anything else at the time.

The next few hours didn't feel much better, it felt like a pair of eyes were on her at all times as she trudged through the muddy road. Maybe she was just tired, or maybe she was just paranoid, who knew? But she continued on regardless and hoped that the 'being watched' feeling slowly faded.

She made it to a small pass with steep hills on each side. It didn't look right, nor sit right in her gut; walking through the small pass. But it was the only way through that wouldn't have her walking back to the crossroads and spending another four days at least walking back to the city on a road she didn't even know. Well, she knew it went by Old Horaldan, and that the road was practically a straight line to the city. She just couldn't get herself to walk along that road. She heard of more deaths to travellers, merchants and the sorts along that road than any other in Skyrim.

She began to walk through the narrow pass, feeling like someone was waiting to attack her. Then out of nowhere an arrow flew down, Talia heard the buzzing of it as it glided down through the air but was not able to dodge it in time. It went into her left arm and pierced through ligaments, muscle and severed the tendons between her arm from her shoulder. Talia screamed from the pain as the arrow dug into her. She heard someone else walking towards her, making heavy and loud footsteps. She tried to pull the arrow out but it was imbedded deep. No sooner would she try to pull the arrow out than she would start screaming again. She moved her right arm and got the spell which she still didn't know the name of out and twirling in her hand.

She saw a moving figure and tried to cast something but it missed. Her aim was thrown entirely off. She had fallen to her knees from the pain, her knees just refused to move. The footsteps became louder and louder until a giant of a man had emerged out of nowhere.

“Well look at you,” He said, his voice was deep and had a strong Nordic accent to it. “Looks like we will need to take you back to camp so we can be more... acquainted.”

Talia tried to cast the spell once more on the man but he simply grabbed her by the hand and squeezed, breaking a few bones in her hand in the process. It made Talia once again scream in pain. Her left arm couldn't be used and there was no way she would be able to cast spells or use her blade with her right, so she was officially fucked.

“Don't worry,” The voice said again. “We will make sure you make it back to camp safely.”

And with that, the man raised his hand, hit Talia on the side of the face and that was the last she remembered of being in the storm that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skoulf honestly surprised me with how brutal he became to that poor Forsworn leader. If that doesn't make you hate him I truly don't know what will.  
> Finally our two characters meet! Granted, it was not the way Talia would want to have it, but it seemed it worked out for Skoulf for once, this time. Let's hope Talia makes it out of this alright, well the best she can with a broken hand and an unusable arm...


	12. Face to Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skoulf and Talia finally meet. Unfortunately for Talia that means being captured by the Forsworn.

He walked into the inn, sweat clinging to his clothes. It was a long, hard day of blacksmithing for Hulgrid. No-one looked his way when he walked through the doors. No-one ever did, not to him, and not to anyone else. He sat down on one of the wooden stools at the main desk in the centre of the room. He felt the fire heat him up and dry the sweat off him, he hoped no-one minded the smell. There was small talk going on, nothing interesting enough to pay attention though. Just more talks of the Forsworn. That seemed to be all anyone ever spoke of these days. Some even said that the Forsworn had even bigger plans than to take Markarth and the Reach back into an independent state. Most people thought it was ridiculous; except Hulgrid.

“Evening, Hulgrid,” The barkeep spoke to him.

“Evening,”

“Which drink do you want this time?” The man enquired.

“Same as usual,” Hulgrid said, “And a heel of bread too,”

The man huffed and ducked under the desk to get the foodstuffs. Once he handed it to Hulgrid, he spoke. “Want to know some more rumours?”

“Sure, why not? Haven't got many other people to speak to since my daughter left.”

“Ah, right, your daughter. Talia, right?”

Hulgrid nodded. _Huh, didn't think anyone here made the connection,_ Hulgrid thought to himself. “So, what's the rumour?”

“Well, word is that at some old outpost along the border of Whiterun and Eastmarch holds, say that a bunch of bandits can be found.”

Hulgrid put on a confused face. “What's so special about a bunch of bandits?”

“It ain't the bandits that is weird though,” Hulgrid raised his eyebrows. “It's how they died.”

“Oh? And how's that?”

The barkeep leaned in a little closer to Hulgrid. “They were found to be completely dissolved. It was determined that their stomach acids did it, too.”

Hulgrid's eyes went wide. “How did their stomach acids break free?”

“That's the thing, no-one knows.”

“And when did this news come in?”

“Only this morning. By some guy who frequents here named Olavmar.”

“Oh yeah, I know the guy. He bought a blade off me not too long ago.”

The barkeep stood up straight. “I can only imagine that it's extremely painful.”

“How so?”

“Well think about it Hulgrid, your stomach acids break free and start dissolving you alive, of course it's going to be painful. Also when the bodies were examined, many of the bodies had broken teeth. Acid dissolves, not breaks.” The barkeep said while pouring Hulgrid another mug of ale.

That confused Hulgrid. Who had the power to do that? What if they found Talia, too? He couldn't suffer through losing her as well. He had lost so much already, he couldn't bear the thought of losing her too. He finished up with his small meal, paid what little he owed and left back to his place. The sky was dark and the storm still hadn't let up. He didn't know why Lady Kyne created a storm over the Reach but he hoped the divine would let it up soon.

The house was nearly as dark as the world outside. The fire was but a faint light and the sconces had burned out hours ago. The place was far messier than when Talia had been there, he only bothered to clean much because she was over. He thought he didn't need to clean up soon since Talia had said she would be gone for about a month. She had been gone for a little over two weeks. He hoped she was safe, he hoped she wasn't in danger. But knowing Skyrim, that was very doubtful.

He heated up the fire again and lit a few sconces. Then he walked over to his bed and unceremoniously plopped into it. He was close to falling to sleep when a knock came at the door. A grumble immerged from him as he crawled out of bed and walked over to the door.

“Who is it?” He attempted to call through the door. The knocks only continued and sped up. “Fine then, hang on a moment.”

He strolled over to the door and opened it. He only saw her for a moment before she had her arms around him in a deep embrace. Her clothes were torn and ragged, while her hair didn't look much better and had small twigs and leaves buried within it. Her backpack was on her but it looked like the straps were going to snap at any moment. He looked up at her face and saw that her left cheek was bruised and took on the colour of a deep purple. It was Talia.

“By the Nine, what happened to you Talia?”

She let go and directed the both of them into the house without speaking. Once they made it inside with the door shut, she told him what had happened.

* * * * *

Skoulf smirked at the sight before him. A woman who had come down the pass during the storm was at his feet. She was still unconscious, his blow had knocked her out after he had broken her hand. He didn't know who she was or why she was crossing the pass at the time, but he waited for her awakening so he could find out. Once he knew her name, he could hold her for ransom. He wasn't afraid, the Dragonborn hadn't been heard of for years now, his tales were still sung, even amongst his own tribe members, and he was the only one who would make Skoulf nervous. But not scared.

His gaze was on her at all times, mostly from the corner of his eye. So he would talk to others, plan future strikes and plans on the other tribes that didn't unite with him under his rule. But all with her in his vision. Once she began to come around Skoulf stopped the conversation he was in with one of the hunters on how much food would be required for the next few weeks, and took a few large strides over to the woman.

She looked around her surroundings and then up to the man now looming over her like a giant did to anyone in their camps. Her eyes went wide in fear as she noticed the man's outfit.

“Now, now,” Skoulf broke the silence. “Who do we have here, eh?”

The woman remained silent, eyes still wide and looked like they were trying to figure out a plan of escape.

The hunter hadn't left the tent and spoke as well, “You'd do best to answer to the man who speaks to you,” He advised. "His name is Skoulf by the way,"

But again she remained silent.

Skoulf's hand went down hard on her face like it had hours before. Not to hard to knock her out again, but enough to make her speak. She whimpered from the pain but still didn't speak.

“Look, all I want is your name,” Skoulf said as his patience dwindled. “If you tell me that I won't have to do... dire actions.”

It was a threat if there ever was one. She contemplated her options, she could continue to remain silent and not give him her name, but it would be most unwise. Skoulf could nearly feel his axe's hunger growing. “Why do you want it?” She spoke with a venomous tone.

“So I can call you something better than _slave_.”

“Fine,” She paused. “Agnifa, my names Agnifa.”

Skoulf didn't buy it. She had taken too long of a pause to fool him. “I'm not going to ask you for your name again you know,”

“But I di-”

“Your _real_ one!” Skoulf said as his patience neared the end of it's fuse.

She paused again. “Talia” She said slowly. “My name's Talia.”

Skoulf grinned. “Better, see how easy that was?”

She remained silent. Her gaze to the ground in shame.

Skoulf ignored it. “Now, what were you doing out in the storm, Talia?”

Her gaze quickly returned to Skoulf's face then left it in favour of the ground. “I was returning home.”

“And where would your home be, hm?”

“Markarth.”

Skoulf rolled his eyes. “There has to be more than that,”

She glared at him. “What more is there to add? I told you my reason of travelling, I've told you my name, and I've told you where I live. You already have all the information you need to make my life miserable. What else do you want to know?”

Skoulf's smirk never left his face. “It sounds like you lived somewhere else when you said 'Markarth', I was wondering where that could be.”

“Look that's...” She sniffed, her voice instantly gaining a sad tone to it. “That's personal information. The kind that my interrogators don't get to know,”

_Ah, so secrets, eh? You'll tell me them eventually._ ”Oh, so you lost your family at your former home did you?”

A lone tear made it's way down her face. From being captured or her family Skoulf didn't know.

“Did you?” Skoulf asked again.

Talia looked to the ground in sadness. “That is something that you don't get to know,” She said through gritted teeth.

Skoulf raised his hands innocently. “Of course,”

She sat there, quietly letting small tears run down her face. She thought that that was the end of her life. She would no longer be able to see her father, stop the Forsworn, and fulfil Lady Kyne's wishes. Skoulf had his gaze on her often, she wouldn't move though. Skoulf looked back to his maps, and began talking with the hunter who hadn't left the tent.

They carried on their conversation at length. It gave Talia time to see what kind of predicament she was in. They hadn't changed her clothes, so she was still soaking wet, she still had her pack on her though she doubted anything she could use as a weapon was gone. She tried to move her shoulder and yelped when pain bit into her. Skoulf barely turned his head to see what the noise was.

She still had a damaged shoulder, and a broken hand. It was when she tried moving her left hand that she found she could. Her hand was fine, but not her upper arm.

Talia tried her best to remember the restoration spell she had been taught so many years ago. It was more difficult to remember than the other one which painfully killed it's target. Still had to make a name for it. She covered her hand with her other, making a small ball and got the spell in-hand.

Abruptly, Skoulf said, “Once I finish up with my chat here, you and I are going to find out all your little secrets.” He put on a grimacing smile. It made Talia shudder.

_Shit, almost out of time,_ Talia thought to herself. It was then that Skoulf walked out of the tent, followed by the hunter. She watched them leave, and as soon as they were gone, she practically dove into her pack in search of a health potion. Finally she found her target after what seemed like an eternity of rummaging. She popped the cork off the bottle and let the red, viscous fluid slither it's way down her throat. It looked far better than it tasted. Instantly though, she felt the ligaments and tendons in her shoulder begin to mend themselves. Then all that remained were her bindings.

Talia thought of lighting the bindings on fire, but that would burn her hands too. Something she couldn't have. Then her mind went to shock, but she quickly discarded that thought. But then she remembered that she knew of a frost spell. Something she had been taught by her mother as well, Talos bless her. She quickly cast the spell onto her bindings and froze them solid. She kept it at a small stream, just small enough to not end up hitting herself. Once it was completely frozen, she got up and walked over to the table and banged the frozen rope against the edge of the table. It smashed within a few blows.

Then there was the matter of escaping. She had only one shot at it; she couldn't fail. It was not an option to her. She got into a crouch and made her way out of the tent. The camp itself was huge, tents lined up for what seemed to be miles. _Damn, this is much more than just a Forsworn encampment,_ Talia thought. It seemed to be more of a fort than anything else. Wooden walls had been constructed and a gate on each side. There were more towers than Talia dared to count and each one housed a guard. Constantly vigilant for anything, or anyone who might be a threat. But they were all facing out of the camp, with their eyes on the surroundings. It let Talia have a breath of relief.

She darted past the tents as fast as she could, being careful not to be in anyone's line of sight. She looked over to one of the sections of the camp. It was empty, no tents, utilities, or anything of the sort on it. But in the centre, lied a man, a young one. He was sprawled on the ground and looked to be rotting away. Talia retched at the sight. His eyes were completely gone, like someone had removed them. But when she saw the top of the man's head, her stomach began trying to get whatever food was in her out. The top of the man's head had been completely blown open, parts of his brain still visible and Talia swore she could see right through the man's head and out his eye sockets.

She got a hold of herself a few moments later. She snuck away from the mangled and decomposing corpse and made her way to the gate. She had almost made it when she bumped into one of the Forsworn. A woman, she wore some of the most revealing clothes Talia had ever seen. It was made of fur but looked like it barely kept out the chill.

“Intruder!” She called out before unsheathing her weapons and charging for Talia.

She yelped and cast the spell Kynareth had given her. A few moments later and the woman was on the ground, clenching her teeth and soon to die. She didn't bother waiting to see it, and moved towards the gate. A few more Forsworn got hit before she saw him, the man who had captured her. Skoulf, if she remembered his name. He stood there, watching. Not getting into the line of fire, but slowly making his way closer.

Talia had dispatched the men that surrounded her with one of the weapons she had gotten from one of the Forsworn since they took her shortsword. Skoulf kept making his way closer and closer, but not close enough to be hit with the spell. The man was smart, Talia had to credit him for that. The hunter he had been with when he left the tent then charged at her. She hit him with the spell not long after.

As the man fell to his knees only to die a slow and painful death, Skoulf looked on at the woman. She paused and looked at him too, but then made her way out of the camp when an arrow whizzed by her face.

As she ran off Skoulf called out, “That's right! Run, girl! Run! For the next time we meet, it shall be your last!” He watched as she ran off into the distance, not even in the direction of Markarth, but to the north. One of the Forsworn walked up to Skoulf.

“You sure we should let her go?” He asked.

Skoulf turned to face the man and looked him right in the eye. “Yes, it doesn't matter if she escapes, because we will find her again. In a few years once we go to attack Markarth, we will find her there and kill her, and anyone else who opposes our rule.”

The man nodded and put his weapon back in it's sheath. “So we wait then? Alright, well, make it worth the wait, Skoulf.”

Skoulf nodded and turned back to the gates and watched the little speck that was Talia still running off into the distance.

* * * * *

She didn't know how long she ran. After getting out of the camp, she was lost. She had no clue where she was and was still on the run. Forsworn could be anywhere in the hills, best not be captured again. She ran through streams, rivers, over hills, boulders, fallen trees and just about anything to get away from the camp and the people who reside within it's walls. She ran until her feet begged her to stop, and kept running, never slowing and never pausing. She made it finally under a small ledge. Once there, she allowed herself to relax.

_...For the next time we meet, it shall be your last,_ Talia shuddered at the words that haunted her mind. Will it be her last time when she meets him again? She didn't know, she hoped not. But then again, nothing about her destiny was set in stone...

Her feet were killing her, she had to rest. Perhaps a small nap, or perhaps only a few minutes to gather her strength again. She waited for an hour, until she saw the sun just over the mountains to the east. She had gone north for a time, but went back south soon enough, but all to the west. She couldn't risk being anywhere near that camp.

She encountered a hunter wandering the nearby hills a few hours later who directed her back to Markarth. She spent the next hours walking along a road she had stumbled across while following the hunter's directions. She made it past the farm, past the mining village, and back into the golden city. She walked up the empty streets, feeling the stares the guards gave her as she made her way past. She looked like a wreck, she knew it. Hours of running in brush does that to people.

She walked up to Hulgrid's house, stood in from of the door for a moment, and then began to knock.

* * * * *

“Ysmir's beard, girl...” Hulgrid said once Talia finished her story. It had been quite the tale. She had made it out to Whiterun with encountering minimal dangers during her time on the road. Then spoke with the priestess about the Eldergleam and then set off again. Then she wound up in Eastmarch and had a conversation with the Dragonborn himself. Then found the Eldergleam, touched it and found herself in a new land, a paradise as she described it. And she explained that she was gone for a week in her heaven, but it had only been a day in real time. She spoke of her travel back, of the storm and the man who captured her.

“Did you encounter any trouble along the way back home?” Hulgrid asked, concern still very present in his voice.

Talia paused for a moment. As if she wasn't supposed to speak of it, but did so anyways. “Yes,”

“Oh? And what happened?” Hulgrid enquired.

She took a deep breath. “I encountered some bandits on my way back to Whiterun. When I received my vision from Kynareth she bestowed upon me a power. One of which no-one else had ever been given. It... It killed the bandits... In a horrific way.”

Hulgrid raised an eyebrow.

“It... Dissolved them. Removed their stomach lining and let their stomach acids roam freely.” She almost sounded ashamed to say it.

“So you were the one to do that...” Hulgrid said, looking into his tankard.

“You know about that?”

“Sure, someone came from Whiterun to here this morning, spread word of it all over town.”

Her eyes became panicked. “Does anyone know it was me?”

Hulgrid humorlessly chuckled. “No girl, no-one does. The man who said what had happened said they didn't know who it was.”

Relief came over Talia's eyes. “Whew, good. I don't want anyone to know I have it. If anyone does, they will fear me more than anything else and might end up killing me.”

Hulgrid nodded. “I understand, not fully, but I know what you mean.”

A small smile came over Talia's face then. “Thanks.” She began to turn and said, “I think it's best if I get whatever's in my hair out and go to sleep, I'm exhausted.”

“I bet you are, food is in the pantry when you need it. I will most likely be at the forge in the morning, need to work on a blade I've been crafting for a while now, you would not believe how much they paid for the weapon.”

“Right, well, have fun I guess,” Talia said, trying to hide the fact that she was uninterested in what he said.

Talia walked off into the washing room of the house. She looked into the mirror which few houses had and saw the mess of her hair. She spent a while getting everything out of it. Then she stripped and went to have a warm and relaxing shower. The Dwemer piping in the house was fantastic since it also kept the water warm. After her soothing shower, she redressed in some of the clothes she had left here, a set of silken clothes. They were pure red and had trimmings of violet and gold. It showed off her curvy figure but that was something that Talia did not care for, she would never wear it outside the house in any case.

After that, she climbed into bed, sighing at the comfort of being in one after sleeping in an oversized pocket of fur for a few weeks. She let sleep take her as fast as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this is the chapter where you should hate Skoulf. I appear to have spoken too soon last chapter. Hitting Talia, not a smart move on Skoulf's part. But eh, who knows, he might just end up ruling Skyrim with no-one to oppose him.
> 
> So it is confirmed! Chapter 13 WILL be the chapter when the summary starts, I feel everyone's waited long enough and I finally wrote down what I had planned in my head. You can think of every chapter up to Chapter 13 as 'Part One' I guess.


	13. Plans and Actions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few years have passed and Talia is now with a few new friends of hers, planning out attacks on the Forsworn.
> 
> The reign of the Forsworn begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for lack of updates as of late. Bought a new game I've dumped my life into for a while.
> 
> Hope I can get back to writing a bit faster as I liked the few day upload schedule I had going on.

_A few years later..._

Talia was twenty-two then. She had spent the next four years of her life after the encounter with Skoulf up at High Hrothgar so she could learn the way from the Dragonborn himself. He instructed her specifically and sent most other willing people off to Arngeir so he could teach. He was not the best teacher ever, but he had far more experience in shouts than any other Greybeard. They also sparred with swords and other weapons so Talia was better at melee combat if she needed. She became quite good and often practiced with the few veteran soldiers who came since they had decades of experience.

Hulgrid still worked the forge in Markarth, over time the Forsworn had become more and more of a threat as they began to torch entire towns and villages. Rorikstead was the first one to fall. He was eventually persuaded to move off to Windhelm and work the forge there. He proved to be a better smith than the one previous and Ulfric gladly gave him the position.

Talia had long since got past her family's death. She still missed them, but the pain was almost completely gone. It never fully leaves once it enters. She had grown enough to have a house of her own, but still relied upon Hulgrid saying, “Once I am done saving the world I will worry with buying houses.” and lived up to it. She had learned a number of shouts during her time in the monastery of High Hrothgar and promised to use them for worship unless she had no other choice. Thorlof, the Dragonborn, had respected her decision and wished her a good life when she left. She blessed the man for being so kind on a number of occasions.

Then a few months after Hulgrid's move Forsworn claimed the Reach for themselves and began to put heavy pressure on Falkreath. While the Stormcloaks owned the country and would not get support from what remains of the Legion, the Forsworn still wanted to cut off the pass. It was a smart move, even Ulfric had to admit.

Then Talia came to Windhelm to wait until the right moment, and it would seem that the best time was right then.

* * * * *

He looked from his throne with weary eyes. The giant table that spanned almost half the room sitting with food from only yesterday. Fire lit up most of the room and have a clear view of the massive metal doors. He had sat there for over twenty years. His days of war weren't over though, he had spilled too much of other Nord's blood, and his own, to let that happen.

A man walked into the massive palace. He was clad in Stormcloak armour, which all members of both the army and the guard wore. He wore no helmet and he had a trimmed beard. His hair was long and untamed, and was a colour of oak. He had a sword that looked like midnight and was embroidered with silvery twirls, and a shield made of the same material; ebony.

He strode confidently up to the throne where he sat, gazing at the man he had not seen in a few months.

“What are you doing here, Bormic?” Ulfric said, with no twinge of annoyance in his voice. “I sent you to Solitude for a reason,”

The man, Bormic, had a dead serious look on him. His hands were slowly turning to fists, but looked to be not directed to anyone. “Well I was, and I was actually quite happy there.” He put on a small smirk, it was the best he could do in a time like that. “But I came here myself since you will have use of me,”

Ulfric's eyes narrowed on the man. “And why would that be?”

“You remember that Jarl Igmund lost Markarth to the Forsworn?”

“Ugh, don't remind me,”

Bormic continued regardless. “They captured it again,”

Ulfric's eyes went wide and he instantly sat up from the slouch he had grown accustomed to. “Tell me everything,” He demanded.

“Well, from what I heard, they have somehow united after the king in rags was killed. They stormed the city deep in the night and slaughtered all within it's walls. They captured the city and the surrounding area a few days later.”

“How do you know of this?”

“One of the guards managed to escape in the chaos and kept an eye on the city for a few days, then came to me as I was closer. The rest of the reports were from other guards and soldiers.” He stared right into Ulfric's eyes. “They ransacked and burned Rorikstead to the ground.”

“So why would I have use of you?”

“Since Galmar's passing into Sovngarde, I am the best man here for strategizing.”

“Is that so?”

Bormic folded his arms across his chest. “You seem to forget how many drinks you owed me during the war because of my battle plans,”

“Now I remember,” Ulfric sighed. “Yes, I remember my total tab, around twenty drinks I recall,”

Bormic smirked. “Twenty-three,”

“Right, well I guess we should head to the war room?” Ulfric suggested.

“That would be best.”

They both walked into the room they had been in over twenty years ago. It looked like it hadn't aged a day, except for the small mountain of dust that had gathered on the war table. All of the small blue flags that had been placed on the table during the civil war decades ago had not been removed and still stood where forts and cities were in the province. Bormic stood on one side of the table and Ulfric on the other.

“Guess we should change Markarth's flag to green,” Bormic said.

“I guess we should,”

Bormic gazed at the small basket that had multiple other tiny flags in it. He frowned and said, “Hmm, we don't have green, perhaps we should just improvise and use the red Imperial flags to represent them?”

Ulfric nodded. “Sure, I don't think it'd be necessary to make green flags for something that shouldn't last too long anyways,”

“Right, well,” Bormic said as he replaced the blue flags on Markarth and Rorikstead with red ones. “Now we need to think of a strategy.”

“Do we know of anyone who might've been from Markarth?” Ulfric asked.

“I'm not sure. From what the guard said, no-one made it out, perhaps you know of someone from there?”

Ulfric stroked his beard, deep in thought, trying to remember who he had met that might've been from the Dwemer city. Suddenly, he remembered. The new blacksmith from there, Hulgrid. He arrived not long ago, perhaps a month or two. “Yes, I know of one.” he said with a grin on his face.

“Who is it?” Bormic enquired.

“The local blacksmith here, his name is Hulgrid. Go send a guard to summon him here.”

“Alright,” Bormic said. He called over a nearby guard and told him the orders Ulfric had said. After he left he returned to the war room.

Upon walking back into the room, Ulfric asked. “So how are things with you and Ralof?”

“Hm? Oh, right. Well he went to Solitude with me when I had to leave, and things have been the same old stuff. We're still very happy though, which is all I could hope for.”

Ulfric smiled. “I am glad you have been able to find someone in life to make you happy.” _If only I could as well,_ Ulfric thought to himself. His last relationship had gone good for a while, they had many things in common but in the end, it didn't work out. He still remembered her, she was an Imperial, caught after breaking into the palace itself. A bond had been established then, one that had nearly shattered Ulfric's heart when it ended. He didn't show what he thought on his face.

“Yeah, I'm sorry about what happened to you though,” Bormic said, clearly remembering Ulfric's love for the thief as well.

Ulfric waved away his apology. “Don't be, it was something that I've dealt with.”

They stood in silence for a time after, waiting for the guard and their blacksmith to arrive. Both were lost in their own thoughts. Bormic had his mind on Ralof, and the Forsworn, while Ulfric had his mind on how he would've changed things to make his relationship go better. Both were snapped out of their thoughts when the guard dropped the blacksmith off.

“Here you are, my Jarl.” The guard said. “Oh, and blacksmith, try to be respectful.” He advised.

The blacksmith had sweat all over his short 't' shaped tunic despite to cold. His face was red and he looked to be quite tired.

He was the first one to speak. “Greetings my Jarl,” He had a cheer in his voice that nearly sounded plastered on. “If you are wondering about the weapons, they'll be made as soon as I can finish-”

“You're not here about the weapons,” Ulfric interrupted gently.

The answer confused the blacksmith to no end. “Then what did you bring me here for?”

“You're from Markarth, correct?” Ulfric asked.

“Yes, I am. Arrived here about a month ago, that's when I spoke with you.”

“Are you aware that the city of Markarth had been taken over by Forsworn?” Bormic asked.

Instead of being confused by the question like Bormic and Ulfric were expecting, the man answered with, “Yes, I am aware of that event.”

“How? No one else but us and a few guards off in Solitude know of it.”

The man's eyes went wide. He frantically searched for an explanation. “My, uh... My daughter told me of it.”

“When?” Bormic demanded.

“N-no more than three days ago.”

Ulfric looked to Bormic. “And what day did you say this happened?”

“Three... days ago...” Bormic said, realizing the dates were the same. “How do you know of an event that happened on the other side of the province the day it takes place?”

The blacksmith stuttered again. “M-my daughter told me, I said that already.”

“And how does _she_ know of this event?”

“She,” the man gulped loudly and took a breath to calm himself down. “She dreamed that it would.”

“So your daughter's a psychic? Can see into the future?”

“Not exactly...”

“Then tell us how she knows?”

Just then they heard a loud bang and quick footsteps towards the room they were in. They were so loud Bormic couldn't even continue with his peaceful interrogation. After what seemed to be a lifetime of hearing the clank of the loud footsteps, their creator showed herself. She looked to be a Breton and was clad in finely made steel armour which hugged her curves quite well and was made to look like how the Nords had styled their armour way back when. She had a oval and petite face. What little skin of hers could be seen was milky white and she had long, golden hair on her head.

On her waist was a leather belt and a sword that looked very traditional yet was as black as midnight, much like Bormic's own blade and was too, made of ebony. She was beautiful, even Bormic had to admit. She looked like a fighter, someone who knew what they were doing at all times on the battlefield.

What's going on here?” She asked, anger in her voice.

“This fellow here was just telling us some information we need, nothing that concerns you. Who are you?” Ulfric asked.

“Well actually, it _is_ my business since I am this 'fellow''s daughter.”

Both the men's eyes went wide. “So you are who he's been speaking of?”

“I would reckon so, if he's been talking about his daughter, yes. I'm the only one he has.”

“He has, we've been discussing what he knew about the attack on Markarth.”

Hulgrid mumbled, “Discussing is not the word I'd use...”

“Well, in that case you have the wrong person. I know more about it than he does,”

“That's what he said,” Bormic pointed out.

“Pa, you can return to the forge now,” Talia said, looking her father in the eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Yes, I am more than capable of handling myself, pa.” She kissed his forehead and shooed him out of the room. She turned back to the other men. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

Bormic was just about to speak but Ulfric beat him to it. “What do you know of the invasion of Markarth.”

She rested a hand on her hip and spoke. “Well, Forsworn attacked the city and killed all the survivors.”

“You must know more than that,” Bormic said.

She shot a glare to Bormic and continued. “Before that though, they united through means I still don't fully know of, but they did and now have plans of attacking all of Skyrim and putting it under their rule.”

“Shor's bones,” Ulfric said, shaking his head.

“And how do you know that, hm?” Bormic asked.

“Lady Kyne has been giving me visions and telling what's been happening.”

Bot men's eyes went wide. “Really?”

“Yes, she has been contacting me for years now.” Talia said, with a hint of pride in her voice. “From what I know, I'm the only person to be contacted by her directly for hundreds of years.”

“That is...” Bormic said.

“That's...” Ulfric tried to continue.

“That's amazing? Yes. Unbelievable? Possibly. True? You bet to Oblivion it is.” Talia said.

“You have any proof?”

Talia charged up her spell and let it's bright green energy swirl around her arm and hand for a moment before discharging it. “Asides from the spell, no, I don't.”

“What does the spell do?” Ulfric enquired.

“Something you'd have to see for yourself to believe me.” Was all Talia said as a response.

Ulfric narrowed his eyes on Talia, she ignored it.

“Perhaps you could stay here in the battle room with us, you're the only person we know who knows a fair amount about the Forsworn now?” Bormic proposed.

Talia smiled. “Sure, I'd be glad to help, as long as we get into the fire every now and then.”

Ulfric chuckled. “That's certainly going to happen,”

Talia nodded, “Right, what's the plan so far?”

“We... Don't have one,” Bormic admitted.

She sighed and leaned down on the dusty old table to see what was planned. “Hmm, how many men do you have?”

“Enough to destroy the Forsworn,” Ulfric answered bluntly.

“Err... Right.”

The three of them stood there looking down over the table a while, none of them bothered to speak. They knew they had no plan on what to do, they knew if Galmar had been alive they would've had a plan by then, except Talia. Finally, they all decided it was best to think up a plan in the next few days doing what they would around the city and surrounding region. But a few days later, the situation got even worse.

* * * * *

“It's time,” Skoulf said. He was standing over a small map on a rotten table that was in the centre of the camp. It had been a few days since the torching of Rorikstead, many peasants had died that day, a few fallen Forsworn amongst them, they were given proper burials. Word had spread to all the other holds about the attack, and many assumed it was just bandits. Then there were the few who thought it was Forsworn.

The hunter, his adviser for battle plans stood beside him, his eyes went wide. “Really?”

“Yes, we have to make it to Markarth soon before people find that it was us who attacked Rorikstead.” He reached for his quill, put a small 'x' on Markarth's location and smirked. “We have to strike quickly and silently.”

“Something I know all too well,” The hunter replied.

They set out at dusk and made their way through the rocky terrain of the Reach in the twilight with ease. The sky was almost dark, yet clung to a very deep blue. What little sun could still be seen over the hills by the time they guessed they would be half way there. They moved silently like the wild hunters that call Tamriel home, nothing noticed them as they made their way past, any who did didn't get to speak of it ever. It was a small ways past midnight when they saw the walls of the city. They shot who stood on the walls and made their way into the city. One of the guards spotted them and raised the alarm, causing a huge battle in the city, turning the water that ran through the city a crimson red.

Guards and Forsworn alike met their ends to the opponent's weapon of choice. Cries of pain and agony filled the air along with the overpowering stench of blood. Skoulf mercilessly chopped his way through guard and citizen alike. Many cried for mercy and pleaded for their lives, Skoulf ignored the screams.

Arrows whizzed past as Skoulf and his army made their way closer and closer to their goal; the keep. Many had been lost, but even more of them had fallen. A fair price, Skoulf thought. As much as he cared for his Forsworn siblings, he cared more about gaining this land back, and the rest of Skyrim more. He would lose a thousand men if it meant he got the city. Skoulf looked back to see who was following, many were. He nodded and made his way inside the keep after the archers had been dealt with.

The air was warm inside, no airflow was present however. Making the room feel stuffy and made Skoulf wish he was back outside. He strode proudly up to the throne upon which the Jarl sat, guard and peasant alike stood by him with weapons drawn.

“So, come to reclaim the city, eh?” The Jarl called out, still sounding undefeated despite the many casualties.

“Indeed I have! It has been too long since it has been under it's proper rulers!” Skoulf said, glancing upon all the Jarl's protectors and then back to the man himself.

“ _Proper._ Bah, this is not your kingdom! Yours is in the hills where you live in the ruins of other, greater people since you are too lazy to make one yourself! _”_

“Speak for yourself, old man! _”_

The Jarl paused for a moment, taking time to consider his words. “So, are you here for the city?”

“And the land around it. True Reachmen territory!”

The Jarl scoffed and leaned up from his usual slouch and said, “I'll see you dead before you claim my throne!”

As he said the final words an arrow flew out of one of the dark corners of the keep. It found it's place in Skoulf's left arm, clearly meant to hit his heart. Skoulf yelled with anger at the pain in his arm, took out his battleaxe and began to hack through guard and noble alike. The others had already begun. Skoulf swung his battleaxe and cleaved through one of the guards, effectively severing his torso from his waist. He turned and split open another's head, watching the pink tissue and crimson blood spew it's way out of the woman's head.

He made his way to the Jarl and he stood, grabbed his blade and picked up a nearby shield.

“That shield won't help you, old man!” Skoulf shouted as he cleaved his way through the remaining guards at the Jarl's sides.

The Jarl thrust his blade uselessly into the air in front of him, not hitting a single soul. Skoulf swung his axe against the shield and watched as a few chunks went flying off it and hitting the wall with defeated, _tonks_. The Jarl's eyes went wide as he saw a few chunks of his shield leave it, but continued the fight as best he could. He managed to hit Skoulf's left arm for the second time, arrow still stuck in it. Skoulf took his chance as the Jarl missed a swipe and had to move back. He threw his weight with his axe and it flung him forwards a few feet, he ended up cleaving the Jarl right in two, straight through his shield. Skoulf saw that he had cut the man right from the shoulder down and ripped off his head and held it high for all the other Forsworn in the keep to see.

“We have won! The city is ours!” He proclaimed, unceremoniously plonking himself into the throne where the Jarl once sat. “Now, time to look to our next prospect.” Skoulf said more to himself than anyone else with a satisfied smirk on his face.

A few days later and the city had been changed from a bustling community that sold supplies, cooked food, and did many other miscellaneous tasks, to a stronghold dedicated to weapon manufacturing, mining, and anything involving violence. Skoulf sat upon the throne and looked down at the main room in the centre of the keep. He tapped the throne's right armrest with impatience, waiting for his adviser to arrive. A few moments later, he heard the door opening and saw the man he was 'looking' for.

“I assume it's something big since you got me over here so soon.” The hunter said as he made his way into the small room which the throne lay.

“It is, very much so in fact.”

“Oh? And why is that?” The hunter asked, slight confusion in his voice.

“We march on Falkreath.” Skoulf said bluntly.

“Already? We _just_ got Markarth back.”

“Exactly, they wouldn't be expecting another attack so soon. Now is the time to strike again, then we lay back a bit and wait.”

The hunter frowned from behind his helmet-like mask. “Alright, I'll let the troops know, we will march at dawn.”

“I shall see you then by friend.”

The hunter nodded and strode his way back out of the keep.

_I hope that Ulfric doesn't think I'll be heading there, we had the element of surprise this time, I can only hope to continue to be lucky._ Skoulf thought to himself, watching his adviser and dear friend walk out of the keep.

* * * * *

All three of them had bags under their eyes. They had been thinking of a battle plan for days, and still thought of nothing good. The enemy's movements seemed to be completely random. Talia held up her finger and was about to speak, both men looked to her with anxious eyes but she slowly lowered her hand and shook her head. Both men looked back to the table with disappointment.

“Wait,” Bormic said.

“What?” Both Ulfric and Talia said in unison.

“Perhaps they would head to Falkreath next,”

“What makes you think that?”

“We may not be on the best terms with the Empire right now, but we _do_ get some supplies from Bruma from across the path which helps the army very nicely. If we don't end up having that power, it will weaken us.”

“What makes you so sure they would head there?” Ulfric said.

“Look, this enemy is smart. Smart enough to unite dozens of tribes to fight for a single cause and not amongst themselves. And smart enough to capture an entire city from us.” Bormic pointed right to Falkreath on the map. “If we depart right now, we should be able to make it there in a few weeks time and hopefully intercept them.”

Ulfric sighed. “Fine, I will give you a small army of men under your command. I will send more troops to reinforce the cities under immediate danger, like Whiterun and Solitude.”

Bormic nodded. “A wise choice, Talia,” His gaze went over to her. “You should join me, you're always complaining about being in the fight, why not now, eh?”

Talia smirked and nodded. “Sure, sounds like it'll be a good time. Just make sure you aren't wrong.”

Bormic shook his head. “I doubt I am,”

“Mm,”

Ulfric cut in to the conversation. “Well, better not waste any time. See you when you get back, and Talos guide you.”

Bormic and Talia held their hands on their hearts and repeated after him. “Talos guide you.”

They walked out into the blizzard Windhelm usually is, leaving Ulfric alone to his thoughts.


	14. Through Swamp and Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia and Bormic end up fighting the Forsworn out of Hjallmarch. After that, they go bandit hunting but things take a dark turn during it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time since the last update. I was just really uninspired during the first part of this chapter.

The sounds of steel clashing against steel, shields splintering, the dying moaning, the alive yelling, the wet thuds of weapons digging into their opponent's flesh, and the drown out orders being shouted filled the air. The world stunk of the coppery smell of freshly spilled blood, and of sweat, ash, metal that now dominated the small part of land. The ground was ablaze from the flames of fallen torches, given a new colour of burgundy generously donated from the dead and dying, and covered with the footprints of a hundred men and women.

No birds were heard, no sounds of wind rustling the leaves and needles of the trees, no sounds of water rushing their way down their streams and into the lakes and rivers. Only screams, moans, and combat.

“ **Formation! Formation!”** Talia screamed at the soldiers between slices of her sword, cutting out chunks of her enemy and painting herself with donated warpaint.

The men who heard began to shuffle their way back into a group instead of being separated like they were before. Those who didn't were cut down and would never know the sweet breath of life again.

It had began only less than an hour before. The Stormcloak soldiers under the command of Talia and Bormic were marching to Falkreath from Whiterun along the small mountain range and plains. They decided against going through the winding and narrow roads of Falkreath in favour of the straight, wide roads of Whiterun hold. They ended up encountering the Forsworn army along the way, just before the pass as they made their way only a day or two out of the Reach.

Battle had broken out as soon as they recognized one another, arrows being loosed, spells being cast, and steel striking against one another. Bormic and Talia stood at the front of the formation of soldiers, a trick they had picked up and found to be very effective, slicing and blocking when they could. _So Bormic was right all along,_ Talia thought to herself in between shouting more orders and killing. They sliced wildly, seeing spurts of blood shoot out in many different directions. Talia stumbled for a moment and nearly lost her head to a Forsworn doing a downwards slice with his blade, she looked down quickly to see what it was and saw that she had stepped on one Forsworn's head, sending brain and blood all over the legs, feet of the soldiers and the ground. _Great, more stuff to get off my boots..._

The battle finished with the Stormcloaks being victorious, the formation being the only thing that caused it. People milled around the corpses, searching for anyone who might be alive; they didn't find anyone. They were all exhausted, sweat still running down many of the soldiers faces. Many had small bottles of ale in their hands that they packed for themselves before leaving, others had food. Talia was sitting by Bormic explaining some of her early life for small talk when he abruptly stood up. A man with golden-blond hair, like Talia's in many ways, was walking over to Bormic and herself.

“Ralof! Good to see you after battle!” Bormic shouted to him. Ralof increased his pace and put on a smirk in response.

They hugged one another and Bormic said, “I thought I might've lost you,” with a saddened tone to his voice.

Talia only looked on, waiting to see what would happen like a child listening to an elder's stories.

Ralof wrestled his head away from Bormic's shoulder while saying, “Of course not! I may be a little old but I'm still good on any battlefield.” He proclaimed.

Bormic chuckled and drew Ralof in for a kiss. Their lips collided with one another and caused a small _peep_ to emerge from Talia. _This man's gay?_ She thought as she watched Bormic and Ralof's tongue war. _Never would've guessed..._

When they finally stopped their battle, to which Bormic looked to be the winner, he spoke to Talia again. “Err... Sorry you had to see that if it made you uncomfortable...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ralof, meet Talia. Talia, Ralof.”

Talia shook Ralof's hand. Noticing that there was still some dried blood on his right hand. “Pleased to meet you,” She said.

He nodded slightly. “As am I, Bormic's told me much about you.”

She looked back to Bormic. “So you speak of me with him?” She inquired.

“Kind of have to, hard to avoid it when _he's_ been bugging me about it ever since word of Markarth.” He said, his face looking like he was going to blush.

“Right,” She said, trying to make this situation the least awkward as possible.

“Guess we should make the march back to Windhelm?” Bormic suggested.

Talia shook her head. “No, we wait here a few days in case any other armies of the Forsworn decide to attack Falkreath. Good idea coming here Bormic.”

Bormic nodded his thanks.

“Well, we should send a few scouts to Falkreath, see if the town's alright. Perhaps that was just a second army going to Riften from Falkreath.” Ralof said.

Bormic nodded in agreement, “Aye, we should. I'll send 'em,” He said as he turned and whistled for a few soldiers to head over to him.

Talia turned back to Ralof. “So, how long have you known him?”

“I'd say a good twenty years. Got married no less than fifteen,”

“Wow,” Was all Talia could say.

“You have anyone?” Ralof asked.

Her eyes went wide for a moment and then she shook her head a little bit harder than she would've wanted. “No, haven't found anyone yet.”

Ralof shrugged. “Hope you can find the right man,” Then he hastily added, “Or woman.”

“Thanks.” Was all she said.

* * * * *

Ulfric sat on his throne when they returned, covered in snow and shivering. Once they crossed the distance of the throne room, Ulfric ushered them into the war room once again. He heard Talia mumble something inaudible under her breath but he ignored it. When they walked into the room, Bormic and Talia's eyes went wide when they saw what was on the table in the centre of the room: a red flag placed on Morthal and it's surrounding forts.

“Forsworn nabbed Morthal from us while you were gone killing that army in Falkreath.” Ulfric explained. “I'm glad you were correct on that, would've been terrible to lose Falkreath hold.”

“Yeah, we're lucky they only got Morthal and not someplace like Solitude,” Bormic agreed.

Ulfric tapped his fingers on the table angrily, “I can't believe those incestuous bastards could take two cities from us! And the forts surrounding them!”

“Don't worry, this uprising will all be over soon,” Talia said, trying to calm him down, but with little success.

Ulfric nodded angrily. “I hope so.”

“So I guess this means we are off to Hjallmarch to reclaim the forts and city?” Bormic asked with an uninterested tone.

Ulfric nodded again but with a little bit of the fire in him gone. “Yes, I can manage here, I need you two to handle those forts, if you two can't do it, nobody else can.”

“Right,” Bormic nodded. “We will go tomorrow. We're exhausted so we aren't going anywhere until first light.”

“Fine,”

Bormic and Talia then walked out of the war room and made their way to their respective houses. They conversed a little while they walked, talking to one another about possible plans for the attack on the forts, how much both of then despise the perpetual blizzard in Windhelm, and many other things. Bormic left Talia to go to his own house a while after, leaving Talia to do something she missed for years. Time to just relax and think. Thinking of the farm and her family nearly brought tears to her eyes, she may be as tough as stone but those memories threaten to break it. She only hoped she wouldn't have to deal with many more tragedies in her life.

Once she got home she greeted Hulgrid with a hug and her telling him of her journey to Falkreath. She then told him that she would be off again in the morning to which he just responded with “Be careful Talia, I don't think either Skyrim or myself could handle losing you.”

She nestled herself into her bed and hoped to get as much sleep as she could before going off to the marshes of Hjallmarch.

* * * * *

They stood in the swamp planning out their attack. Bormic had suggested a stealthy route while Talia chose a more hands-on approach. That left them at a crossroads, to which the other soldiers had to chose. Most of them voted for Talia's idea while only a handful chose Bormic's. They decided on attacking just when the shifts were changing.

Blood went flying in many directions, steel striking against itself and arrows flew. The Forsworn looked to be either groggy or tired. Both worked to the Stormcloak's advantage. They attacked the fort by storm, killing any Forsworn they could find. None surrendered, something that only lead to their demise. The courtyard was the first thing rid of the Forsworn, the walls were second. Barricades had been set up but the small army of soldiers hacked and slashed through them with ease.

Once inside the keep, they found more Forsworn than outside. The place inside was filled with fur racks and spikes with mutilated animals, among other once living things. Torches lazily flickered against walls and braziers shone with light from their small flames. Shadows dominated most of the fort they were in, but there was enough light so torches didn't need to be used. Talia, Bormic and a group of soldiers stood in the chamber that they were in as soon as they went through the doors, slowly walking deeper inside the keep and trying to not be too disgusted at the large splatters of blood and torn pieces of Stormcloak armour lying next to the piles.

The hallways were narrow, only large enough for two people to walk side-by-side. They pushed on through the hallways and the rooms that were attached to them, killing the unwanted inhabitants of the fort. The attack on the inside of the fort was not without heavy losses, many of the brave warriors under the command of Ulfric perished within the fort's walls. Those who watched their brothers and sisters die, gained more and more anger towards the Forsworn and brought down faster and deadlier blows to them. After many killings and a few losses, Talia, Bormic and the remaining soldiers found themselves in the main chamber where a man clad in glass armour sat in a small chair on the opposite side of the room. The last few Forsworn in the fort charged the group and all of them met their own death.

The man stood up, unsheathed his sword and got his shield out and began to rush the group like the Forsworn before him. Talia just sighed wearily and cast her spell with a flick of her wrist and walked past the man as he fell to his knees clutching his sides. Everyone then spread out to find anything of value to Ulfric that might help in the war, and Talia ended up finding it. A small note was at the desk where the former Forsworn leader of the fort sat, it had a small green wax seal and looked to be only written a few hours before. She opened the note up and read it.

_Skoulf,_

_Things over here in Hjallmarch are going quite well. I have been putting a lot of pressure on Dragon's Bridge and hope to see them fall soon; not without your consent of course. I am pretty sure that the leaders of the other forts over near the Pale are putting pressure their too. I will send you another letter in a week as is the usual._

_~Laanran_

She called over Bormic after finishing the note and got him to read it too. His face twisted into a deeper and deeper frown after each sentence he read. Once he was finished he handed the note back to Talia and sent the soldiers back outside.

“Do you know who Skoulf is?” Bormic asked.

Talia nodded slowly. “Yes, he- he captured me a few years back...” She said as she shuddered from the memories.

“You? Captured?” Bormic said, he said as cheerfully as he could. “I'm sorry but that seems nearly impossible.”

Talia smiled weakly. “I doubt you fully believe that. But it's true, it happened a back when I barely knew how to properly swing a sword.” She rested a hand on Bormic's shoulder. “Come on, let's go off to the next fort.”

Bormic smiled and began to walk. “Let's only hope there isn't too many of them.”

* * * * *

The next few forts and Morthal itself didn't offer anything else of use. Each fort seemed to be identical in information and the city had nothing to offer that helped out at all. By the time the sieges were over, Talia, Bormic and their now handful of men were exhausted to no end. They all began to trudge their way off to Dawnstar since it was the closest city to them and was on the way to Windhelm.

When they all arrived, exhausted, frozen, and wishing Skyrim had better weather, they all funnelled into the inn faster than the miners do at a particularly tough day of mining. Ale disappeared faster than rooms were rented and hearty laughs and cheers filled the inn. Talia glanced around at the men who were doing various things. A dice game was over in the far corner by the door and was quite the uproar. Talia saw a few fists fly over there and the following words “You cheated!” over there many times. The hearth itself had gathered the people who had gotten the worst of the cold and they all sat silently sipping their drinks and watching the fire seemingly entranced. The benches were filled to the brim with men and women alike, many headed off into rooms to take part in other activities than drinking and gambling.

One drunken fellow ended up stumbling their way to where Talia was sitting in silence. He looked at her for a moment with a daze of confusion and brought a wide grin to his face. He strode haphazardly to her and then began to speak.

“What's a fine lass like you doing here, eh?” He said with his slurred voice from hitting the bottle.

She rolled her eyes but the man didn't notice. Or was too drunk to care. “Well,” she said as she raised her arm to show her bottle. “I'm drinking.”

The man seemed undeterred from her matter-of-fact voice. “Well maybe you'd like to have some fun instead of ale?” He said in his bet suave voice.

“No,” Talia said, shaking her head.

The man only lazily closed one eye and opened it again in response. “Err... Come on, women feel in the mood all the time.”

“Yes, I'm sure some do,” She pointed to another woman across the inn showing off her curves for all to see. “But **I** do not feel 'in the mood'.”

He shook his hand drunkenly. “Fine! Don't need you anyways! I'll just...” He said as he walked away and unceremoniously toppled over a few moments later causing a small giggle to come from Talia.

She shook her head at the lusty, drunken man and tried to get back to the matter at hand. The civil war was a threat, not as large as Harkon was or Alduin, but a threat nonetheless. She saw Bormic walk over and got out of her thoughts. He strode over with a bottle in hand and looked to be having quite the time. Then she noticed the angry fist being waved from one of the men over at the dice game.

“You not looking for some release?” Bormic said, his bottle's contents sloshing about inside and frothing.

Talia shook her head a bit harder than she wanted. “No, I don't.”

He nodded, with a look that said 'I understand'. “So, what do think should be done?”

Talia pondered for a moment or two and the her eyes went wide with realization. “I know of a bandit camp near here, want to kill a few troublemakers?”

Bormic's grin only grew. “Let's,”

They stepped out of the warm inn and immediately felt the chill of the Pale hit them. “I've heard that Winterhold is even colder.” Bormic said as he glanced around the sleepy village of a town.

“I can't imagine,” Talia shuddered. The moons were out and high in the sky, Masser giving a small hue of red off onto the snow below, and rippling and mingling with the waters in the bay. Small dark clouds dotted the sky and drifted past the large moons, almost seeming to be massive craters in appearance against them. They stepped off the porch after picking up the note the Jarl had left as a bounty. “Plus,” Talia said, shaking the note. “It's never bad to get some extra coin,”. Bormic only nodded.

They walked out of the city and the half constructed walls that were in place. They looked to be hastily made and the cuts were mostly wonky and poorly made. Ice had frozen into the large cracks between the rocks of the road. Talia could barely recall how much she slipped. They followed the note's directions and found themselves overlooking a small camp built out of a mine. Torches flickered against the snow and illuminated the faces of many of the bandits.

They waited a few moments and then charged in, the plan as usual. They broke through the flimsy barricades set up at the front gate and cut their way inside. Blood splattered against the snow and screams filled the silence of the winter night. Bormic took one side of the camp and Talia ended up taking the other, Talia then found the bandit leader to be on her 'side' and had to fight him. He proved to be an excellent fighter, compared to the idiots with blades she fought just before him.

His attacks were slow and methodical, compared to the former bandit's rushing attacks. And with one fateful swipe, Talia's sword was out of her hand and on the ground. He kicked her down and grabbed her hair. “No-one attacks my mine and gets away with it!” He snarled, spittle flying from his lips and hitting Talia's face.

“But,” He continued. “I think there is a way to repay your mistake,”

His hand glided down to Talia's breasts as he began stroking them casually, causing a scream to come from Talia. It stayed their for a moment while his other hand remained at her back twisting her right arm up. His hand then disappeared for a moment and returned further down. Talia began sobbing, she didn't want this. She couldn't take this. Her knees felt weak and her eyes were glossed with tears as they made their way down her cheeks. “Don't worry, I'll go easy on ya-” The bandit said. All of a sudden, his hands were still, and without power. She ripped them off her and threw him to the ground. Then she saw the sword wound.

Her breath was quick and uneasy. It had been close. Too close. She turned and saw Bormic standing there with a guilty look on his face. She tried to say 'Thanks' but came as a _peep_.

“I am... So sorry you had to feel that,” He said, his eyes cast down to the blood covered snow.

She shook her hand in dismissal. After a few moments her voice returned. “No need for you to be sorry, nothing you caused.” She said with her best smile given what she had just endured. “Certainly wouldn't have wanted that to be considered 'my first time'...” She said with a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah well, wait... What?”

“What?” Talia has as she reached for her sword.

“Are you... Are you pure?” Bormic asked, surprise embedded his voice.

Talia stopped and stood there for a few uncomfortable moments. She sighed, took a breath in and said, “Yes... I am.”

Bormic's eyes seemed to widen farther then any other time before. “You've never had sex?”

“No, still pure.” Talia proclaimed.

“I... I don't understand... Why?”

She shrugged, she never liked this topic. “Never found the right man, and it never interested me to pursue one.”

Bormic frowned, then shrugged. “Well, to each their own. I just made my way out of that 'mine' there. More of a small hole in the dirt.”

“Back to Dawnstar?” Talia suggested.

Bormic nodded. “Back to Dawnstar,”


	15. Love, Friendship, and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia finally admits to her feelings for Ulfric and spends some time with him. Then the siege of Markarth takes place and Talia witnesses something she could barely handle a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twenty-seven hits since last upload?! You, dear readers, are amazing! Thank you from the bottom of my heart, to all of you.

Time passed and the war was still going. The Forsworn took a city whenever the Stormcloaks took one back. It had been that way for months, with Talia and Bormic out to take the territory back with Markarth always just a little out of reach. After a while, Bormic and Talia became more and more exhausted with saving a city and ridding all the forts of Forsworn.

Ulfric looked upon the table with Markarth and the surrounding area still filled with red flags. He heard the thump of the metal door that was the entrance to the palace and knew that Talia and Bormic were back again from their adventure in the Rift. He heard heavy footfalls during the time.

Finally, he saw them both covered in snow and large, dark bags under their eyes.

Talia was the first to speak with, “If I have to go out and save another city one more fucking time...” With her finger pointed at Ulfric accusingly.

He shook his hand. “No need for that, no other provinces have been seized during your time away.”

Both Talia and Bormic went wide eyed. “Really?”

Ulfric nodded.

“So what now?” Bormic asked.

“Now we get a drink and take a break, we're both exhausted and it looks like you could use a drink too.” Talia said, her vision on Ulfric the entire time.

Ulfric reluctantly nodded. “Perhaps you're right. We do need a drink every now and then,”

Talia dipped her head in thanks. “Great, well let's go!”

Ulfric stopped mid-stride. “Where are you going?”

“To Candlehearth Hall of course, where else? The corner club?”

“Well... I... I thought we would have a drink here,” Ulfric said.

Talia shook her head slowly and waved away the idea. “No, it's about time you've gotten out of this palace, and what better place then the inn, eh?”

Ulfric sighed, and then clasped his hands together and continued walking. “Guess it would be nice to get some fresh air, and a stiff drink.”

Bormic only chuckled in agreement, while Talia nodded.

The three of them walked out into the blizzard once more and they saw the guards dip their heads in acknowledgement of Ulfric. The wind was strong and the snow never stopped falling. The sky was of a deep blue and the last light from the sun could be seen over in the east. Torches and braziers remained lit across the winding walkways the city had, while everything else had snow still clinging to it. Talia slipped on some particularly slippery stone and fell, only to have Ulfric catch her midway. She tossed him a soft smile and picked herself up with the help of the leader of the Stormcloaks.

The inn was somewhat quiet and not much happened. The innkeeper's eyes went wider then anyone had seen as she recognized Ulfric in her presence. She quickly said that any drink he and his friends had were on the house and all three nodded and said thanks.

After word had spread that the Jarl was out of his palace for once, the Hall became more busy then the innkeeper had probably seen in a long time. It was crowded so much that many people were outside in the cold of the blizzard. Talia was enjoying a few drinks and playing a game of what seemed to be blackjack, while Bormic was beating someone in an arm wrestling competition with many drunken Nords shouting at one or the other to win. But Ulfric only stood around and had a few drink while being praised by the many Nords in the establishment. While it was good to be outside his palace for once, he didn't know what to do. He hardly did anything more then the necessary and standing over the war table, deep in thought.

He shot one more glance at his two advisers of war and walked outside for some fresh air. The snow chilled his bones when he stepped outside and was greeted to many more Nords standing about talking. He made it out of the group and sat on a bench after wiping the snow off it, and got lost in thought. He thought of his city, of the war he was in, of his times when the Imperials were the threat, and then the residents of the city he was in.

His thoughts were eventually interrupted by Talia sitting down next to him. “Hey, what's going on? You went missing in the Hall,”

“I don't know, not used to being in company and showered in more praise then I need.” Ulfric replied.

She smiled slightly, with a somewhat drunken look on her face. “Hm, I doubt that's the case, but perhaps it is. Now, why are you sitting on a bench in the snow instead of somewhere warmer?”

“Just needed somewhere quiet to get lost in thought. Where's Bormic?”

“Home.” Talia chimed. “Him and I walked over to it once he was done arm wrestling everyone.”

Ulfric nodded. “Was he drunk when you walked home?”

Talia laughed a bit, and Ulfric got a waft of the alcohol on her breath. “Was he ever! No doubt he'll have a hangover tomorrow,”

Ulfric rolled his eyes at the thought of Bormic drunk. He had seen him drunk on a few occasions, the most notable one being after the civil war was over and the siege of Solitude had been won. “I hope not too many fists went flying,”

Talia let out a laugh. “Not too many, but there were some,”

Ulfric noticed as Talia's smile slowly faded and she turned away from him. She began wringing her hands and had what Ulfric could've sworn was nervousness on her face.

She eventually looked back to Ulfric and offered, “Want to head back to the keep?”

Ulfric nodded and rubbed his hands together for some warmth. “Let's,”

They walked past the smaller group of people outside and made their way across the icy and snow covered ground. Talia didn't slip this time but she remained a little closer to Ulfric then before. Ulfric took a moment to look up at the sky and saw that it was just dark with snowflakes falling from seemingly nowhere. Slight light could be seen in the sky as light from the moons tried to make their way down to the land below. Once they made it to the doors, Talia stopped and held Ulfric's hands with her own.

She looked up into his eyes and he looked back. She blushed a small bit and took a breath. Only a few moments after she had taken it were her lips on Ulfric's. He was surprised by the action she had just done, but made no move to stop her and ringed his arm around the small of her back. They stood and kissed for a time that seemed too short for both Talia and Ulfric, and then she released. She didn't avoid eye contact with him and he didn't with her.

She looked back to his blue eyes. “Look, I've really enjoyed our time together. I hope that meant something to you, because it did to me.” She then slowly, reluctantly, let go of Ulfric's hands and walk off back to her own house. “See you tomorrow,” She called.

Ulfric watched her leave and couldn't help but let his eyes drift down her backside and stop at her rump. _She won't mind. And yes, it did mean something to me. It meant a lot to me._ Ulfric thought to himself before turning and walking into the palace for a seemlingly restless night.

* * * * *

Talia laid in her bed; unable to sleep. She had just kissed Ulfric; the man she had feelings for, for months now. And now she found herself wishing she was in his embrace and couldn't find rest. She played out a few scenarios in her mind on how to get rest and finally resolved on one. She stood up and got out of her nightgown and walked off to find some more clothes.

Once she was dressed, she packed up her gown and went to the door. She took one last look at the house and cringed at the sound of Hulgrid snoring. Talia then took a breath, and walked back out into the blizzard. She walked with quick steps to the Palace of Kings. The cold only made her go faster. She made it past the graveyard that was in the city, and Candlehearth Hall which made much less noise then when she had last been near it. Up the stairs she went and into the palace once more, dressed in some fur clothing that kept her very warm.

She walked into the war room and gasped when she saw Ulfric still there. He was hunched over on the table with his back to the entrance of the room.

Ulfric turned his head and smiled. “What are you doing here?”

“You can't sleep either?” Talia asked, with her scenario completely destroyed, she was caught off guard.

Ulfric shook his head. “Is that your reasoning for coming here?”

She nodded. “Maybe we could help each other?”

Ulfric raised an eyebrow, prompting her to continue.

“Well, I thought since you can't sleep and I can't, perhaps we could go to bed and...” She started making movements with her hands, hoping he could just figure out what she meant. Her eyes went wide and she hastily added, “With _that_ still in your pants...”

Ulfric only chuckled slightly. “Alright, let's see if it works.”

Talia smiled and began to walk over to him and then upstairs. He followed and wrapped his arm around her waist; she made no movements to remove it. They walked up the stairs and made it into Ulfric's bedroom, his bed standing tall, proud, and unused. Ulfric went into bed and eyed Talia to join him, but she shook her head and made gestures for him to turn his eyes away. He did so reluctantly.

By the time Talia allowed him to turn his eyes back, she was dressed in a silken gown that hugged her curves very nicely. She got into bed with him and snuggled into his shoulder. He felt her hot breath hit his chest and he sighed; he didn't want this moment to end. She moved her head up with half-closed eyes and kissed him again. This time it wasn't as long but still had as much love in it as before. She shifted in Ulfric's arms that were wrapped around her and let out a long and blissful sigh. Within a few minutes both were asleep like stones.

* * * * *

Bormic was surprised to find the war room empty. Normally Ulfric or Talia was in there far before he was. He always was late for making it to the war room, but he also had a husband to spend time with, since they were missing out on a lot. He waited for them to arrive which seemed to take forever. Finally he heard some laughter from the other side of the door to his left. It opened moments after and the laughter stopped. Bormic's eyes went wide at the sight before him. Ulfric with his left arm wrapped around Talia's waist and her snuggled into him. Upon noticing Bormic standing there, Ulfric let go of Talia and she stopped snuggling into him.

They both said “good morning” and huddled around the table like so many times previous. Bormic just smiled an all-knowing smile and it annoyed Ulfric to no end. “You have fun last night?” He finally piped up.

Talia was the first to talk. “At the inn? Yes, I did. After that, well it never got far enough for 'fun'.”

Bormic raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“It's true,” Ulfric took his turn to speak. “We didn't do anything like that last night,” He shot a look to Talia and she only grinned and then she mouthed “Soon,” to him.

“Mm,” Bormic said, still doubtful.

Ulfric just shook his head and returned his hand to Talia's waist and she rested her head on his shoulder. They both ignored Bormic's smile.

* * * * *

“So, it's time is it?” Talia asked, her body leaning on Ulfric.

“Mhm, it is.” He confirmed.

“So, we're really going to do this?” Bormic asked.

Ulfric sighed. “Yes, you are,”

“Both of us?” Talia asked.

“That is the status quo is it not?” Ulfric said.

Talia nodded. “It is. Still can't believe what we're going to do though,”

“Neither can I,” Bormic said.

Ulfric pointed once more to the little red flag on Markarth. “Yes, that is your destination,”

“No more fucking around with forts?” Bormic asked.

Ulfric shook his head. “No, you will be sieging Markarth and Markarth only,”

“So what do we do when we get there?” Talia asked.

“Starve them out for one, so just camp out of range from them, but just close enough to keep supplies from heading through.”

Both Bormic and Talia nodded.

“Alright, I guess you can leave as soon as possible,”

Both of them started walking out of the war room and into the main hall, leaving Ulfric but Talia stopped by him. She gave him a hug and kissed him passionately. “I'll miss you,” She said softly.

“And I, you,” Ulfric said after the kiss like Talia had.

They lingered in each other's arms for a while after Bormic had left. Ulfric kissed her one last time before letting go. “Promise me you'll return,”

Talia smiled a soft smile. “I promise,”

She unattached a sword from her belt. A shortsword, with the sheath still on it. She placed it in Ulfric's arms. “This was my ma's. I will return for it, if you weren't already enough.”

Ulfric smiled and said, “Talos guide you,”

“And you as well,” Talia said, placing one hand on her heart for a moment before letting it drop back to her side.

She gave Ulfric one last look and began to walk off to catch up with Bormic. Ulfric watched her leave, and went to sit upon his throne. He eyed the sword curiously and then unsheathed it. It was a fine blade and was nicely crafted. Not a single scratch was on it, and engraved on the sword read, _There has never been a good blade made of bad steel_.

* * * * *

Talia looked at Bormic in shock. “Now? Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight,” Bormic said.

“You sure Bormic?” Ralof asked, concern in his eyes.

Bormic nodded. “Mhm, now is the ideal time,”

Ralof and Talia nodded. “Ok,”

Blood was flying and steel was crashing against steel. Shields shattered and arrows flew. Some were falling and others were felling. They cut their way through the winding streets of Markarth all to get to the keep. Understone keep. She charged forwards with Bormic no more then ten feet away with Ralof just behind her. They killed Forsworn after Forsworn all to get to _him_. The leader, Skoulf. Talia cast her spell over and over again until her magicka reserves were nearly empty, and then used her sword.

Bormic swung his battleaxe anywhere where a fellow Stormcloak was not, or Talia. He killed so many Forsworn he could not keep track. They were almost there, almost to the keep. Talia gripped her sword tighter until her knuckles turned white.

Then, out of nowhere, when they were just at the keep doors, an arrow struck Bormic. Talia heard his cry and whipped her head around to see him, arrow stuck in his chest. Talia looked frantically for the archer responsible and once she did, she mustered all the power she had from Aetherius and cast her spell. It hit the archer dead on.

“Oh, Nine, no...” She said, looking at Bormic as he sunk down to lying against a stone pillar.

He had an unusual look on his face. His eyes were wide, and he seemed distant. Like he couldn't hear anything, or feel anything. Ralof knelt beside him and Bormic looked at him and his look returned to how it once was.

“We need to get the arrow out!” Talia shouted to Ralof, panic embedded in her voice.

Ralof shouted calmly back. “You go on ahead and I'll do that!”

Talia knelt down besides her best friend and said, “He's my friend too you know!”

“I know that, girl, but you have to kill Skoulf!” Ralof replied, his attention completely on Bormic, his eyes wide with panic.

“But what about him?!” She couldn't just leave her best friend to die. She couldn't suffer through losing someone else close to her.

“I'll watch him, you go on ahead and fulfil your destiny.” Ralof said, trying as best as he could to keep his voice calm.

Talia let a lone tear drift its way down her cheek. She couldn't lose Bormic after losing so much in her life already. She nodded and then leaned in and kissed Bormic on the forehead. After that she stood up and called over a group of soldiers. Once they were all gathered there, she took in a deep breath and stepped into the keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Talia and Ulfric finally do it! Let's hope it lasts, eh?


	16. The Reign's Ending: The Way it Should Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia and Skoulf battle it out in Understone keep, and then Talia has many more adventures afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One ending of two!
> 
> Talia's ending won out so this one is the official ending! Skoulf's will be up soon, but will only be there for people to know how it could've ended differently.  
> This ending spoils many things for the other ending, so beware for that! Also some parts of the chapter is exactly the same as the other version, so warnings for that too I guess.
> 
> Kudos, Comments, and Bookmarks are all very appreciated as well.

She walked nervously in the keep. Sweat beading on her forehead and drifting down. This was it. The final stretch.

Vellas was no longer where he had been years ago. She missed him, and Olavmar too. They had been so kind to her in the time that she knew them. But they were gone now. Out of her life for the unforeseeable future. She took deep breaths to calm herself as much as she could. If she messed up now, who knows what could happen?

The soldiers behind her were nervous too. They had every reason to be; just like herself. Talia looked up to the ceiling, still made of stone like so many times before. It was like her old life was returning to her, but far worse. One she would never want to live. They all walked slowly into the main chamber and looked out for any archers or ambushes within the keep's halls.

The main chamber was filled with Forsworn, yet none attacked. They just stood there; watching. Waiting for the right moment to strike. All the Stormcloak soldiers raised their weapons even higher and clung to them like if they let go they would die. Talia only wished that their weapons saved them.

Once they made it inside, the Forsworn encircled them. Ensuring no escape. Then emerged one man who was far taller then the rest. He stood easily over six feet and had a large battleaxe on his back. Something about him seemed familiar to Talia, and she guessed the man was Skoulf.

“So... Come to kill me have you?” Skoulf said, his voice booming and echoing off the walls.

Talia looked at him and he looked back. “Yes. I have.” She said, her voice not getting anywhere near as loud as Skoulf's.

Skoulf frowned. “Huh, I thought someone stronger and more important than a _girl_ would come to kill me.”

Talia looked at him with disgust. “Well this _girl_ is going to send you to Arkay and beyond!”

Skoulf let out a booming laugh and it hurt Talia's ears. “Fool. Forsworn do not worship your false gods! We worship the true ones; the Princes!”

Talia got her hand prepared for her spell. “And which one do you worship?”

“Mehrunes Dagon. Prince of destruction. He gives me the power I need to kill pretender heroes like you,” He spat.

Talia narrowed her eyes, and got her spell charging. “Let's see if he believes in you then,” She said.

He laughed, pulled and his battleaxe and said, “With pleasure,”

Within moments the entire room was filled with the sounds of battle. Talia and Skoulf only focused on one another and not to anyone else. Many Forsworn were killed trying to kill Talia yet no Stormcloak died for such foolishness as charging Skoulf. He grinned and slammed down his battleaxe and Talia sidestepped it and bumped right into another Forsworn. Skoulf swung again and Talia dodged his attack once more and the axe hit a fellow Forsworn. He died with a look of betrayal in his eyes.

Talia charged up her spell to the maximum it could go and waited. She only had enough magicka to cast the spell once and attacking Skoulf with weapons was suicide. She knew that. She couldn't miss, too many people depended on her to not mess up. Skoulf saw her hesitating and made a foolish move in his rage. He brought down his battleaxe and Talia cast her spell.

She dodged Skoulf's axe once more. The spell hit him right in the centre of his chest. He realized that he had not killed her like intended, and that she had beaten him. But he tried all he could to stop it. “No...” He said through tightly clenched teeth. “I... Will not... Fall...”

Talia looked down upon the once mighty leader of the Forsworn as his life slowly dribbled away. “But you will. I am sure you know what is happening to you now, and what will happen next.”

Skoulf spat blood in Talia's general direction. “I can't... fail...” He said, even though he knew it was a lie. It was over for him, and he would lose. The Forsworn would lose. The pain that he experienced was unbearable and he let out a pained cry.

Talia pulled out a small dagger from one of the sheaths on her belt and walked over to Skoulf. He was too pained to notice until he felt her tap against his back. “I eventually found out, at some point, that you had killed my family. Or perhaps it was just a band of Forsworn. But,” She said, eyeing the small blade in her hand. “You're going to be the one to suffer for it,”

Skoulf let out something resembling a beg for mercy, yet it seemed like she hadn't heard. Or chose to ignore it. She drew the blade across Skoulf's back and watched as blood began to seep out. She did it again and again, and got even more Stormcloaks to do it too. They had lost so much to that man; it was time for vengeance. Skoulf only let out pained cry after pained cry. What had he done to deserve such a horrible end?

He finally and mercifully felt his conscious slip into darkness and he saw nothing more of Tamriel.

* * * * *

He awoke on something hot. He got up and clutched his burnt cheek. He then looked out to the world and saw that it was nothing more then red stones piled up on one another and were scorching. He saw ruined, demonic-looking structures with spikes jutting from the building wherever they could fit. He looked to the ground again and saw unusual flora. It was something like grass but was as red as blood. His eyes finally found what had caused the heat.

He found that he was completely surrounded by lava. It pooled around the island and kept him from leaving.

Finally, a voice that sounded dark and horrible spoke to him. “So mortal. You enjoy being in my realm?”

Skoulf looked all around but could not find the source of the voice. “Who are you?” He called out.

The voice chuckled. “I am the prince you have spent so many hours worshipping. And now you are in my realm and bound to it. _”_

“I- I thought I would go to Sovngarde, _”_ Skoulf blurted out.

This made the prince laugh to no end. He finally stopped and explained something to Skoulf. “Oh, you see, when you devote yourself to me, Arkay doesn't give two shits about you. You're mine, Skoulf. Mine.”

Skoulf shook his head in disbelief. He could never go to the Nordic heaven and meet people he always wanted to. He was trapped. Forever.

* * * * *

Talia walked out of the keep with her head held high. She had just ended the one thing she was tasked to complete. And by a divine no less. Her destiny had been completed and she was now free from its grasp. She heard something and looked over to her right and saw Ralof with Bormic. She listened to what Ralof was saying before walking over.

“We drink to our youth, to the days come and gone. For the age of oppression is now nearly done.”

Talia knelt beside Ralof and he looked up at her. Some happiness returned to his eyes when he saw her once again, but was almost completely masked by his sadness.

“How many times did you sing it?” Talia asked.

Ralof looked to Bormic and squeezed his hand once more. “Enough times for him to hear,”

Talia felt tears in her eyes and brushed away a rogue one. “I'm sorry for your loss,”

Ralof nodded. “Thank you, you'll be there for the funeral right?”

Talia smiled a sad smile. “Of course. He's my friend too you know,”

Ralof chuckled for a moment. “Guess we should move him,”

Talia nodded in agreement. “I guess we should,”

They picked up Bormic and hauled him outside the city with the help of a few other soldiers. While they had won the day, it was far worse than anyone wanted. Many had died in the siege, and they all would be mourned. That night was when the bodies were burned. Ralof insisted that he wanted to burn Bormic elsewhere and everyone let him. He took a horse and rode off into the dead of night and back to where he called home. His old home.

Talia went with the soldiers back to Windhelm. It was a good three weeks of walking to make it there, but Talia felt at home seeing the ancient city and towering stone walls. She considered the walk more than worth it. The doors to the palace stood tall and proud as they always do. She placed her hands on the doors and pushed them open. Ulfric was sitting on his throne at the other side of the hall. As soon as he saw her, he stood up and began to quickly walk over to her.

He held out his arms as she got close and drew her into a loving embrace and deep, passionate kiss. “You're back. I missed you so much while you were gone,”

“I missed you too. The Forsworn's reign is over, and is no longer a threat.” Talia said, eventually getting out of his hug.

He looked behind her for a moment at the doors and then asked, “Where's Bormic? I do not see him,”

Talia's smile turned to a frown very quickly. “He's... He's gone. He didn't survive the siege, and he is in Sovngarde right now,”

Ulfric's expression darkened. “Oh, I see. Is there a body or...?”

She shook her head. “No, Ralof took him and could be anywhere now,”

“Ah. Well, let us not dwell in sadness, but celebrate our victory!” He said so his voice echoed off the walls of the keep. Something caught Talia's eye and was not something he normally wore. It looked to be a necklace, but her curiosity began to peak.

“What are you...?” He asked her, wondering what she was up to.

“I just need to see what this is,” She said, her hand finally getting a sure grip on what she wanted to see. She pulled it out and let out a gasp. It was an amulet that she had seen many times before back at the farm she once lived in. It was something worn by her ma very often. “Is that...?” She asked.

Ulfric nodded. “An amulet of Mara? Yes. I had a lot of time to think while you were gone and I finally decided that I am willing to spend what life I have left with you. If you would do the same of course.”

Talia stood in shock for a moment. She didn't know what to say. No words seemed to be able to form in her mouth and she stood there slack-jawed. Finally, she was able to grasp onto words and say them. “Yes, yes of course I will!” She said as she kissed Ulfric passionately.

Ulfric smiled as wide as possible and let his hands drift back to their normal spots across Talia's back and along her waist. “The ceremony will be in a few weeks,”

Talia looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with happiness. “I can't wait,”

* * * * *

They stood hand in hand. The rows were filled with veterans, nobles and locals alike. The temple was filled with happiness. The priestess was saying the vows and Ulfric and Talia listened intently.

The weeks had gone by and Talia and Ulfric had begun to become more and more excited about their bonding. They had also gone to the burning of Bormic that Ralof had planned. He said he would stay behind a while and tend to him properly. They both understood. But then was not the time for mourning, but a time for happiness and celebration.

The priestess finished up with the words of binding, and then Talia and Ulfric kissed. The crowd cheered, but the world only seemed to contain Ulfric and herself. It was a little heaven for them and them only to enjoy. And they spent as much time in it as possible.

* * * * *

He laid in his bed, and Talia was just getting in. It had been two weeks since the marriage, and things seemed perfect. Everyone was congratulating them, even Ralof after he made it back from his trip.

Ulfric kissed her, and let his hand drift down her neck, chest and swollen belly. He stopped, his eyes wide. Talia smiled even wider.

“Honey, are you... Are you with a child?” Ulfric asked her, shocked at the sight before him.

She nodded and kissed him. “Yes, we have a little heir to the throne.” She rested a hand gently on her stomach.

His smile couldn't have been wider. “This is great news! How long have you had her, or him?”

“Only about a month, still have many more to go.” Talia said, snuggling into Ulfric like she had so many times before.

He sighed. “Can't wait to know if it'll be a boy, or girl,”

Talia nodded, her head rubbing against Ulfric's chest. “Me neither,”

* * * * *

She heard the sounds of wood smacking wood in the distance. She walked towards it with light steps. She crossed through corridors and finally made it into the main hall. Ulfric and Syra, their daughter, were practising with wooden swords against one another. It brought back memories of her childhood, and life on the farm. Talia brushed away a rogue tear as she made it over to the two blade wielders.

Ulfric hit Syra's sword and it went flying into the air and landed somewhere in the distance. “Got you,” He proclaimed.

Syra groaned. “When am I going to beat you?”

Ulfric smirked. “One day, child,”

Talia walked over to her family. “Syra, don't let him hurt you when doing this ok?”

Syra nodded. “Don't worry, he won't,” She assured.

“Honey, can I speak with you for a moment?” She called out to Ulfric.

He nodded and they walked away from Syra who began swinging her sword at the air. “What is it, Talia?” He asked.

“So, I've been thinking about something,” She said. “But it involves something you won't like at all. I'm going to do this though,”

Ulfric looked at her, his eyes filling with concern. “What is it?”

“I'm leaving.”

His eyes went wide. “What?!”

She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Not forever, but a while. I'm young, and want to see the world that Tamriel is! Not trapped as a mother in a palace my entire life.”

Ulfric looked to the floor, his mind thinking of many scenarios of what might happen to her. “How long?”

“A few years, I want to see as many provinces as I can before settling down. Makes a nice story, too.”

Ulfric smirked for a moment. “I'll miss you,”

She nodded. “And I will miss you too, but you've lived far longer than I have. I want to see life, and live it to its best,”

He nodded. “I understand. When will you leave?”

“I was thinking in an hour or two,”

“Didn't give us a lot of time to prepare,”

She nodded. “I know, but I don't want a grand leaving party, or anything of the sort.”

“When will you tell Syra?” Ulfric asked.

Talia contemplated the thought for a moment. “I was thinking about now,”

He kissed her as passionately as he could.

Talia had her pack with her, and a stick for walking. Her sword was on her belt and she wore a cloak made of fine linen. She had a small tent she could use and a bedroll. She chose to not have a horse, and she would live life on the road how she did back many years prior.

Syra had tears in her eyes and Ulfric's were filled with sadness. They prayed for her to be safe and she began walking out of the hall and into the wilderness of Tamriel.

“How long will she be gone, pa?” Syra asked Ulfric.

“Not long, child,” Ulfric said. “She will return soon enough.”

Ulfric sat down on his throne and stared at the doors. “She always does,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends The Reign of the Forsworn...  
> Sad to see it go. :'(
> 
> But I have one final question for everyone reading.  
> What would you all think about a sequel? I left the ending for a perfect spot to start up the second chapter in Talia's life.  
> So please let me know what you think of this idea, and if it's worth writing. Hope your day is well! ~TLS


	17. The Reign's Ending: But at What Cost?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skoulf's Ending: The reign comes to an end, as does Skoulf's life, but he also takes his revenge upon the one who caused his own.

She walked nervously in the keep. Sweat beading on her forehead and drifting down. This was it. The final stretch.

Vellas was no longer where he had been years ago. She missed him, and Olavmar too. They had been so kind to her in the time that she knew them. But they were gone now. Out of her life for the unforeseeable future. She took deep breaths to calm herself as much as she could. If she messed up now, who knows what could happen?

The soldiers behind her were nervous too. They had every reason to be; just like herself. Talia looked up to the ceiling, still made of stone like so many times before. It was like her old life was returning to her, but far worse. One she would never want to live. They all walked slowly into the main chamber and looked out for any archers or ambushes within the keep's halls.

The main chamber was filled with Forsworn, yet none attacked. They just stood there; watching. Waiting for the right moment to strike. All the Stormcloak soldiers raised their weapons even higher and clung to them like if they let go they would die. Talia only wished that their weapons saved them.

Once they made it inside, the Forsworn encircled them. Ensuring no escape. Then emerged one man who was far taller then the rest. He stood easily over six feet and had a large battleaxe on his back. Something about him seemed familiar to Talia, and she guessed the man was Skoulf.

“So... Come to kill me have you?” Skoulf said, his voice booming and echoing off the walls.

Talia looked at him and he looked back. “Yes. I have.” She said, her voice not getting anywhere near as loud as Skoulf's.

Skoulf frowned. “Huh, I thought someone stronger and more important than a _girl_ would come to kill me.”

Talia looked at him with disgust. “Well this _girl_ is going to send you to Arkay and beyond!”

Skoulf let out a booming laugh and it hurt Talia's ears. “Fool. Forsworn do not worship your false gods! We worship the true ones; the Princes!”

Talia got her hand prepared for her spell. “And which one do you worship?”

“Mehrunes Dagon. Prince of destruction. He gives me the power I need to kill pretender heroes like you,” He spat.

Talia narrowed her eyes, and got her spell charging. “Let's see if he believes in you then,” She said.

He laughed, pulled and his battleaxe and said, “With pleasure,”

Within moments the entire room was filled with the sounds of battle. Talia and Skoulf only focused on one another and not to anyone else. Many Forsworn were killed trying to kill Talia yet no Stormcloak died for such foolishness as charging Skoulf. He grinned and slammed down his battleaxe and Talia sidestepped it and bumped right into another Forsworn. Skoulf swung again and Talia dodged his attack once more and the axe hit a fellow Forsworn. He died with a look of betrayal in his eyes.

Talia charged up her spell to the maximum it could go and waited. She only had enough magicka to cast the spell once and attacking Skoulf with weapons was suicide. She knew that. She couldn't miss, too many people depended on her to not mess up. Skoulf saw her hesitating and made a foolish move in his rage. He brought down his battleaxe and Talia cast her spell.

Then everything went dark for Talia.

* * * * *

“Hey, are you awake?” Ulfric said, his voice full of joy and happiness only a lover can create.

Talia shuffled around on the bed to get comfortable once more. “I am now,”

She felt him kiss her on the neck. “Come on, open your eyes.”

“Can't I just stay here, and drift off back to sleep?”

“No, please, open your eyes.” Ulfric said once more.

She reluctantly opened her eyes. But she was surprised to find that she was not in bed, but in a bunch of grass. She sat up and her eyes opened wide. She felt a soft breeze hit her face and the feeling of being in shade. Ferns lined where she was and tall grass went up a little past her chest. She looked around, unsure of where she was. Then she stood up and began to remember where she was. She looked up to the sky and saw huge trees towering over her and a clear blue sky with white fluffy clouds rolling along it. She looked to her left in worry and saw a beach and beyond it, a clear blue water with waves that rolled calmly to the shoreline.

“No...” Talia said, too shocked to believe she was back. She was in paradise. Her paradise.

A voice then spoke to her, one that she remembered instantly. “Well done my child. You have ended the reign of the Forsworn, but unfortunately at a cost.”

Talia was too shocked to move or do anything but speak. “But I'm here doesn't that mean I failed?”

“Well, not entirely. You see, you cast your spell and it hit Skoulf. But unfortunately you did not live to see it,” Kynareth said.

Tears welled up in Talia's eyes. “I'm- I'm dead?”

“Yes. I have sent you back here; you have fulfilled your destiny.”

She looked to the ground and fell. She landed on the soft ground in a sitting position and was too shocked to keep her balance. She was gone. She would no longer feel Ulfric next to her; the warmth he provided. The love he gave. Talia began sobbing. Tears shedding as fast as all those years ago when she learned her family had been killed. She cried out, wishing she was not in the paradise she once wanted to stay in forever. She wished Ulfric could be with her, or she could be with Ulfric. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be back at Windhelm with Ulfric embracing her.

It was no longer a paradise. It was hell.

* * * * *

Skoulf fell to his knees, clutching his sides. He knew what was going to happen. He had seen it before, back when he had captured Talia those years ago. He tried to stop it, but he couldn't. He slammed his teeth against one another and began to feel them crack and break under the pressure. The pain was unimaginably horrible. He cursed Talia. He cursed her to never know joy or happiness again, and only pain. Like the last moments of his life.

The battle stopped somewhere during the time when Skoulf was dying. The Stormcloaks looked on and saw Talia lying in a pool of her own blood. Skoulf spat on her body with bloodied saliva. Some of the remaining Stormcloaks got her body and took it outside while the remaining soldiers went to discuss something. Skoulf wished he could know what they were planning. He was too busy coughing up blood to move though.

After a few moments the Stormcloaks then turned back to Skoulf who was still hacking away. They all looked at him with evil smiles on their faces and Skoulf was nervous on finding out what was going to happen to him. They all brandished daggers and then walked over to him. He let out a pained moan in response to what was to happen. Skoulf could only see some of the soldiers legs now and sat on his knees awaiting his horrible life to end. The he felt it.

The soldiers had begun to stab their daggers into his back. Not deep enough to kill him, but just deep enough to get a cry out of the dying man. He felt the daggers stab into him again and again and again. It seemed that it was never going to stop. That, along with what the spell was doing to him, he wished that he had just had a simple death in combat. It seemed to go on forever until he finally felt his life slip and his conscious faded.

* * * * *

He awoke on something hot. He got up and clutched his burnt cheek. He then looked out to the world and saw that it was nothing more then red stones piled up on one another and were scorching. He saw ruined, demonic-looking structures with spikes jutting from the building wherever they could fit. He looked to the ground again and saw unusual flora. It was something like grass but was as red as blood. His eyes finally found what had caused the heat.

He found that he was completely surrounded by lava. It pooled around the island and kept him from leaving.

Finally, a voice that sounded dark and horrible spoke to him. “So mortal. You enjoy being in my realm?”

Skoulf looked all around but could not find the source of the voice. “Who are you?” He called out.

The voice chuckled. “I am the prince you have spent so many hours worshipping. And now you are in my realm and bound to it. _”_

“I- I thought I would go to Sovngarde, _”_ Skoulf blurted out.

This made the prince laugh to no end. He finally stopped and explained something to Skoulf. “Oh, you see, you did not die in battle for one. And second, when you devote yourself to me, Arkay doesn't give two shits about you. You're mine, Skoulf. Mine.”

Skoulf shook his head in disbelief. He could never go to the Nordic heaven and meet people he always wanted to. He was trapped. Forever.

* * * * *

It was with a heavy heart that Ralof walked into the Palace of Kings. Snow swirled around him and he walked with slow steps. His eyes were cast down from the sadness he had been feeling and he wanted nothing more than to just be home and cry away the sorrow. He stopped at the doors and looked at them for a moment. They were so tall and proud; Ralof wished he had that kind of emotion right then.

He set his hands against the door and with a few pushes got it open. He saw Ulfric stand up from his throne on the other side of the hall and make it quickly over. Anticipation and excitement was on his face.

“So, how did it go?” He asked.

Ralof looked up at his commander and showed the frozen tears on his cheeks. “It was a success, Ulfric,”

“Are you alright, Ralof?” He spoke his second question.

“No. Bormic...” It took all his strength to keep himself from crying once more. “Bormic never got to see the end of it. He passed away during the assault on the siege.”

“Oh,” Ulfric said, his face losing the emotions he showed before. “He will be honoured and remembered in the hearts of many. I am very sorry for your loss.”

Ralof nodded and began to turn, but Ulfric placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Do you know when Talia will be back?” He said, his face returning to looking like it had when Ralof had seen him.

Ralof bit his lower lip and his mouth twisted into an even deeper frown. “She... She didn't survive either,”

Ulfric's smile that had returned was gone in an instant. “You're... You're lying... Right?”

Ralof shook his head slowly. “No. I am afraid she did not survive the siege either.”

Ralof saw tears well up in Ulfric's eyes. He stood there in shock. “This is completely true?” Ulfric said.

He shook his head. “Look at me. I am in no mood of joking, or playing a prank on you. I'm mourning too.”

Ulfric's hands began to shake. His eyes finally released a few tears of their own and his right hand went up to his chest. He grabbed onto something and with a small tug, ripped it from his chest. He held it in his hands and then tossed it to the floor with a sad tone. It hit the stones below and clanged against it, causing echoes that bounced across the walls. Lying upon the ground was something Ralof recognized very well; an amulet of Mara.

* * * * *

“Can you promise me something, Kynareth?” Talia asked as she skipped what stones she could find into the ocean.

Kynareth sat beside her and spoke. “What is it, Talia?”

Kynareth had taken to a human form to keep Talia company through the years that she stayed in her little slice of hell.

Talia flung another rock. “When Ulfric passes on too, can you send him here?”

Kynareth looked at her, and then nodded. “Sure. Are you sure he would prefer to be here instead of Sovngarde? Once he arrives here, he can't leave. Just like you. Unless you wish to go to the Dreamsleeve.”

“And lose all my memories to be sent back into the world? No thanks. If I was to go back, I want to be me, nobody else, not with anyone else's memories. Only my own.” She said, flinging another stone.

“Right. Yes, he can be granted to be here with you once he passed from Mundus.”

Talia sat down onto the grass as she had thrown all her stones. “Thank you.”

Kynareth dipped her head. “No problem,”

* * * * *

Ulfric awoke to an unusual feeling on his face. It was not the bed he had spent hours in depression on. Nor was it the throne that he had fallen asleep in many times. No, it was green and soft, yet a bit rough. He opened his eyes blearily to find that he was in a bunch of grass. He looked around yet saw nothing more than the ferns and the grass that engulfed him. He sat up and tried to think of what had happened. He had been in a battle. One that had lead to his demise. He thought back and began to remember bits of what had taken place.

He had been summoned to Solitude in terms of something urgent. The fastest way was by ship and he had his own. They sailed for Solitude and encountered a pirate ship during that time. They had come aboard and slaughtered the crew; Ulfric included. It all happened so fast. He saw darkness, and then the next thing he knew, he was in a strange pile of grass and ferns.

Looking around, he saw that he was in a forest with trees that towered up, yet were not the trees of Falkreath. These ones had leaves. They were not the pines he knew. He looked to the sky and found that it was of pure blue with puffy clouds of pure white drifting in the soft breeze. It seemed nearly too good to be true. He heard no songs, or laughter, or anything for that matter. Except for one voice. He expected Sovngarde to be filled with other Nords and be of a land far different. The Dragonborn had even described it to him one time.

He tried to identify the voice he heard, but couldn't. It sounded familiar though, and he went off in search to find who it was. He made his way past tree and rock until he saw her. Standing on the shoreline skipping rocks off the pristine water. It was her. It was Talia.

He broke into a sprint and shouted her name. She whipped her head around and her eyes went wide. He ran towards her and she began to run to him. They met just when the shore met the forest and they hugged and kissed one another, relishing the sensation.

Talia and Ulfric had no words for one another, but their actions spoke more than words ever could. She nuzzled into his shoulder like she had so many times before and he kissed her forehead. “I missed you so much. But now we can see one another, finally.” Talia said into Ulfric's chest.

“Yes, we're together now. And we always will be, Talia. My one and truest love,”

She smiled and kissed him once more. “The reign of the Forsworn is over, and now we can celebrate at last.”

“It is and we can. And it always will be. I love you Talia,”

“I love you too, Ulfric,” Talia said. “And I always will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this tale of mine! I'll be jumping to that sequel sometime soon, but I will be focusing my attention to more One-Shots and When in Cyrodiil...  
> Again, thanks to all of you for reading this tale, and I only hope for you all to enjoy any other stories I create! ~TLS


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